Symbiosis
by Rae Stickler
Summary: Problems ensue when Jim deals with personal issues and Spock begins experiencing Pon Farr during a diplomatic mission to Trill. Graphic language and sexual content. Featuring my own two characters, Skylar and Amelia.
1. Distractions

**Symbiosis** – an adult fanfic – by **Cassandra Espinoza**

**A/N: Be advised of the graphic language and sexual content. If this makes you uncomfortable, I suggest you view something else. I do not own any of Mr. Roddenberry's characters, places, weaponry, etc. **

**I. Distractions. **

Captain James T. Kirk sat with his hands on his thighs, the tips of his fingers rhythmically pounding against the stiff material of his black Federation issued pants. While the chaotic twitching of his phalanges did not bother the rest of the bridge and officer congregation all seated around the large oval table in the conference room as Spock spoke about something – what was this meeting about again? Oh yes, they would be docking at a space port in two days – the dock at Trill – Jim's attention was being overrun by autonomic beat. And this distraction was keeping his thoughts, only _slightly_, in the opposite direction of a more overwhelming force. This force coursed through his veins, amply pawing at the firm muscular highway that wrapped its way around and down his pulsating heart; rippling over a chiseled abdomen and anterior superior iliac spine, and electrifying with childlike anticipation into his groin. The result was an unprecedented compulsion of speedy finger tapping and the blatantly annoying spasm of his right foot; this was a beat that continually got glances, particularly testy ones from across the table from the hawkeyed Nyota Uhura. The force between the heel of his boot and the smooth floor only made a quiet clicking nose that lasted half of a second individually, but Uhura's Vulcan-esque hearing capabilities made it seem like Jim's heels were the drum major of a marching band ushering in a world of noise. He tried to make the shaking stop when her dark eyes would narrow at him; he succeeded only until she looked away at Spock, and he returned his gaze at Spock as well. It would only take a few words from the Vulcan's dangerously educated mouth before the restraint became too insatiable to bare, and Jim's leg would explode with a wave of pent up aggression towards the floor. When Uhura gave him another threatening look, Jim merely widened his eyes at her and tightened his lips.

James T. Kirk could not help that he was hornier than hell.

Spock placed his hands behind his back, his posture as magnificent as usual. "Captain, are there any other essential elements to which you may see fit to include in this agenda with the Trills?"

Clasping his sweaty hands together on top of the table and managing to straighten himself up, he glanced around at the rest of the table. Dr. Leonard McCoy was on the opposite end of the oval, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared across the way at Spock, neither interested nor lost by the lengthy terms of commerce laid out by Mr. Spock. He caught Jim's gaze briefly, his arched eyebrows almost an incredulous whisper at the captain's gaze.

"I've got nothing to add, Jim," Bones said as if he had been prompted to say something per Jim's glance.

On his left, Lieutenants Amelia Takashi and Hikaru Sulu, and Ensign Pavel Chekov had their notepads out and had slowly stopped writing as their gazes lifted in various directions. All three of them were always on their game regardless of how little they paid attention to Spock whenever a conference was called, and Jim was okay with that as long as their attention was fully on them when he talked. But it always humored him when he caught a glimpse of a Spock-centered cartoon on one of their notepads. To Bones' right sat Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott and Lieutenant Skylar Pike. Scotty's chair was leaned back as far as it would go; his eyelids hung open with an exertion of force so great that it could potentially be harnessed to hold open a pair of turbo lift doors.

Between him and Jim sat Skylar, whose full lips were pursed, her arms crossed over her chest and her brown eyes narrowed in Spock's direction. Jim was considerably familiar with this look. It was the look of 'I'm completely immersed on what you have to say on the outside, but my mind is as far away as Sulu and Chekov on the straight side of the heterosexual scale.' Jim had used this look often in the Academy on his instructors when his mind would be sifting through his internal file cabinets of bars to check out, bets to settle, and curves to explore for the evening. Even when he was called on by a suspecting instructor, he was a clever enough to bullshit his way through an explanation or to pull an answer out of his ass. However, if Spock would have been his instructor, he probably would have met his match – though he'd never verbally admit that. Even though Skylar was using the same card as he'd so frequently used, Skylar would get off easy; after all, she had Spock wrapped around her finger. Or perhaps it was the other way around; Jim did not know for sure. Their relationship was a conundrum to anyone who sat outside of its boundaries – and that was basically everyone, especially him. If anyone knew anything about the dynamics, it would have been Amelia, Skylar's female best friend. A second insider would probably be Scotty or even Bones (though he could have easily scored access to such classified information from his crafty chief programmer girlfriend, Amelia, who was exceptionally brilliant in both directives).

Skylar and Jim had a quizzical relationship as well that never fully gave him permission to overstep certain lines that he knew were present but were never actually articulated. Some days he and Skylar were one in the same, best friends even (paralleled by Amelia and Sulu's relationship). Some days, he was another Uhura to her – competition. While Skylar wasn't known to start petty drama, she had no qualms with handling certain situations with a phaser. Uhura was just as resilient, but with her tongue. It was very apparent that each young woman had their sights set on being the Alpha female; while Uhura's advantages were mastered along the lines of an unmatched (except perhaps by Mr. Spock himself) astute cleverness, Skylar had the ability to take anyone down physically (her kryptonite being the Vulcan nerve pinch, also delivered effortlessly by Mr. Spock). And while Jim thought about these two women, one he was already sexually active with on a frequent schedule, a blatant clearing of the throat sounded, drawing Jim out of another wicked fantasy. He blinked and saw those congregated around the table, including a few other officers that he had overlooked, staring at him. Skylar waved her hand in front of his face.

"Captain?" she said with very little seriousness. "Do you need a hypo?"

Jim shook his head. He looked back at Spock, who still remained in his statuesque position seemingly undisturbed by the holdup. "I'm sorry, Spock. I don't think I had anything else to say in regards to our meeting with the Trills."

"Wasn't there a particular assignment you wished to give to one of our own here, Captain?" Spock questioned, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Jim eyed him quizzically and for the first time saw a trance of obvious annoyance. Jim almost laughed out loud. Instead, he suppressed it into a chuckle. "I'm sorry, Spock, it must have slipped my mind."

"Perhaps you should have a private meeting with Dr. Mc –"

"Spock," Jim interjected seriously. "Okay, I get it. That's my business. What was I supposed to tell them?"

Spock dropped his arms and turned to Skylar. "Lt. Pike, you are being demoted to Yeoman."

Skylar's jaw dropped as a hush fell across the room. "On what grounds?" demanded Skylar as her fists slammed down onto the table top, reawakening the already alarmed wavelength that connected everyone in the room outside of Spock in stunned expressions. Jim met her height as he stood slowly beside her, his arms out to stop anyone who tried to say anything else – and to stop Skylar for pouncing.

"Whoa, whoa," Jim started, giving Skylar a reassuring nod. He turned and glared at Spock, who now crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "_Thank you_ for that eloquent explanation."

"Well, Captain, considering that you were unable to actually recall the assignment in your present elusive preoccupation, I merely attempted to fulfill the obligation per your – be it _amused_ – request."

"What the hell is he talking about, _Captain_?" seethed Skylar.

Jim turned to her. "It is a fake demotion," he explained sternly. "It isn't a secret to anyone that Senator Dorraine isn't the biggest fan of the Federation. In fact the whole plight of this landing is getting the Trills to trust us in the negotiations of a possible Federation post on Trillus Prime. This post would be considerably beneficial to both parties – which, one would think would be something the Trills would understand as far as symbiotic relationships, but that's beside the point. The point is, as Mr. Spock has already pointed out in this meeting, is that the there is a possibility of foul play, and in order for negotiations to go smoothly we all need to be protected. The Trills have little knowledge of our chain of command here, nor have they any clue as to what roles any of you play until you are formally introduced by me. Starfleet has given me special orders to have Lt. Pike _act_ as my Yeoman in order to keep her close should any foul play become apparent." Jim looked directly at Skylar. She was beginning to loosen up in understanding. "You are my best tactical officer and chief of security. You will also be my personal bodyguard, as per the request of Starfleet. We have one shot with this colony. They are on the center of the teeter-totter on whether or not to become a Federation planet." Jim rested a hand on Skylar's shoulder. "You're going to hate me, but you are hereby ordered to wear a skant until completion of the mission, Lieutenant. You are also to have your rank reissued."

With a heavy sigh, Skylar sat back in her chair. "Yes, Captain," she murmured only audible enough for her reply to be acknowledged.

Jim looked at the rest of the table. Many of the congregation had subsided in their worries. Everyone seemed to be fully awake. He turned his head to Spock, who was now staring at the table top almost as elusively as Skylar had been during his lengthy briefing. "Is everyone clear on what is to happen in the next couple of days?"

A unified, "Yes, sir," rang out.

"Dismissed."

A din of chatter and feet took over the room as everyone stood from their chairs, gathered their PADDs and notepads, and began to make their way towards the double doors leading out to the rest of the _Enterprise_. One of the first out the doors was Skylar who hardly waited for them to automatically open, followed by Amelia, Sulu and Chekov. Scotty lingered for a moment, glancing in the direction of Jim and Spock while he absently engaged in a quick conversation with another officer before turning and heading out of the room. When most of the room was cleared out, Bones approached Jim who was hunched over the table, his knuckles white as they pressed onto the wood.

"Something wrong, Jim?" Bones asked as he took a seat in the chair Skylar had inhabited. "You seem as distant as Earth."

"I agree," Spock remarked. "You were rather vacant today. Are you feeling ill?"

Jim tapped his hands onto the table. "I'm having some manly issues, that's all."

Bones smirked. "Oh, I see. Looks like I won't need to call you into Sick Bay then, _thankfully_."

Spock remained indifferent. "I am unfamiliar with the unscientific term 'manly issues.'"

"I highly doubt that," said Bones. "It's a scientific, unifying biological process."

"By all means, Doctor, enlighten me."

Bones nodded, impressed by the wit in Spock's tone. "Fascinating. For a moment, you almost sounded as though you were going to show us some humanistic tongue and cheek."

"Thankfully that moment has passed."

"You emotionless 'thinkers' might call it arousal."

"I'm horny, gentlemen," Jim suddenly said, his cheeks flushed. "Plain and simple." He stood upright and ran a hand through his hair, stretching himself out, his abs peeking out from under the hem of his tunic. "It's not a fucking anomaly."

Spock crossed his arms over his chest. "By all means, it is a biological consistency. However, I do not understand what the quandary is considering that there are plenty of resources available to alleviate the current constraint on your attention span."

Jim rolled his eyes at Spock. "Forgive me, Spock, for not excusing myself from your loquacious debriefing to relieve myself."

"If arousal is such an ailment, I would have readily sanctioned your request to leave. Rather that than endure an hour of excessive, infantile patter."

"Patter?" Bones questioned haughtily.

"Yes, Doctor. The underdevelopment of your hearing range has not allowed you the capability to endure a broken chain of continual foot and fingertip tapping."

Bones gritted his teeth. "Forgive me, King of the Evolutionary Hierarchy, that I couldn't hear Jim tapping his foot in anxiety between the giggles on my left and the snoring on my right."

"It seems like I'm not the only one with the issues, Spock," Jim remarked coolly. "You also seem to be a little bit on the offensive today."

"My disposition has no relative association with this matter, Captain. With that said, I wish to take my leave."

Jim waved his hand in the direction of the doors. "No one's holding you here."

Spock eyed him. "That was not my inference."

"Go look at your scanner, Spock," Bones spat, standing from the chair.

Spock did not move. "No," he said simply. Both Bones and Jim were caught off-guard by this remark. "I intend to return to my quarters. Good day, gentlemen." Spock gave them a respectful nod and moved in a brisker-than-normal stride towards the double doors of the conference room. It wasn't until the doors recessed back together with a sigh that Bones made a "Huh!" sound and glared back at the door.

"I don't know what crawled up his ass and died, but damn," he stated angrily. "He is definitely on his high horse today."

"I'm pegging it as an off-week," Jim replied simply. "He's been rather moody lately and quiet. Exceptional for even him, though he'd never admit it. I suppose everyone is entitled."

"Well, he couldn't have picked a worse time to start bitching. I'm going to have to ask you to have me mirror whatever assignment you give him. If he'd beaming on planet with you, I'm putting in a request to stay onboard; I'm sure murder on a diplomatic mission is enough to end any and all negotiations with the Trills."

Jim chuckled absently. "If they don't murder me first." He looked at Bones who did not seem to find the statement humorous. "I'd really appreciate it if you didn't murder my first officer right now. I need him."

"He's pretty damn irrational right now, if you ask me."

"This time, Doctor, I'm not." Jim flashed him a smile. Bones could not help but reciprocate. Even though he was a man solely invested in the opposite sex, Jim had a smile that could make anyone susceptible to his infectious charisma. "Do me a favor and play nice until after the negotiations. Then you two can play cat and mouse around the bridge all you want."

Bones slapped him on the back as the pair turned and began heading towards the doors. "So, about your predicament … I recommend a certain communications officer who usually enjoys your time."

Jim shook his head. "I don't know, Bonesy. She and I have been on different planets lately. I don't really know what to do about that as of now."

"Well then I'm going to let this conversation go and leave it at that."

"Wait, no medical advice for me?" Jim smirked at him.

Bones rolled his eyes. "I'm a doctor, Jim, not a miracle worker." The double doors opened and they walked out into the bustle of the _Enterprise's_ veins.


	2. Biology

**II. Biology. **

Amelia Takashi could feel Leonard's fingertips tracing down the length of her back, creeping into the otherwise danger zone that was her bottom. Her heart racing inside of her chest, her hands closed over the folds of material encasing his biceps as she felt one of his hands slowly gathering the bottom hem of her already short skant, the skirt's hem hitching upward with the pull of his grasp. Amelia felt the gruff tips of Leonard's fingers as they gently coursed themselves along the outer hem of her red Federation skant bloomers. Wrapping his large hand around the outer side of her thigh, his thumb found its way under the elastic edge of the bloomers. Amelia involuntarily inhaled sharply, nearly pulling away from him but Leonard's other hand pressed at the center of her back, holding her in place against him. His lips curved up at the corners in a playful grin, stubble texturing his cheeks and chin.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a baritone of a whisper as he leaned in towards her and gently began to kiss the inner contour of her neck.

Automatically, Amelia tiled her head back extending Leonard the invitation to proceed (despite the fact that she knew he would proceed anyway). His stubble tickled at her flesh as each hair on his chair sent pleasurable waves down her slender neck, stimulating every nerve blissfully and teasingly below her shoulder line. She'd almost forgotten about the lone thumb resting on the inside of her bloomers when it began to stroke the inner skin of her thigh. Amelia responded autonomously by clenching Leonard's biceps even tighter. Her brain was telling her that perhaps digging her nails into the poor guy would not be such a sensual pursuit – but her body did not have the power to resist. Leonard knew exactly where every arousal button to press was located on her body. He was a doctor, after all.

"Are you required by Starfleet to ask that?" The words barely escaped her lips before Leonard's engulfed hers in a deep kiss. He pressed himself against her, Amelia now utterly pinned against one of the medical counters in Leonard's office which was adjacent to his quarters. Their tongues danced in a rhythmically velvet exploration; Amelia could feel a pressure growing against her groin as she fought to subdue the invader in her mouth. But as much as her tongue struggled against his, Amelia knew that she was no match for his offensive strikes. She was going to have to be bold and strike out in his most vulnerable of areas … but her hands did not want to release themselves from his arms; there was a security there like a barrier in which she retained some ounce of control. Even the slightest release of her strength would signal to Leonard that she was allowing him to advance. Against her better judgment, Amelia allowed her irrational, animalistic side to take over. Releasing a hand from his arm, her hand traveled downward into his own danger zone where it made its way between the tight space almost nonexistent between their bodies and enclosed it around Leonard's vulnerability. With a decent amount of pressure, Amelia single-handedly won the battle; Leonard's entire body hunched rigidly into her, a gasp escaping his lips as they moved only a millimeter away from hers. Wrapping her other arm firmly around his neck, Amelia pulled herself up against him and sat herself on top of the counter. Her legs wrapped around his waist and the gap between them quickly closed again leaving only enough room for her hand.

"Fuck," Leonard gasped before his mouth was on hers again.

"You know," she breathed between kisses, "this would be a lot easier if your pants were off."

Leonard pulled his mouth away, his eyes glazed over with lust and his chest rapidly expanding. "Yes. Let's go – before the monitors start picking up cardiac irregularities and start beeping." His face was instantly on hers again as he wrapped his arms tightly around her, her arms doing the same. Without any movement in the direction of his quarters Leonard felt Amelia's hands running down his sides to the hem of his medical tunic. As if being ordered to, his arms instantly went up as did his uniform top, exposing a broad chest of pinnacle, healthy physique. A light spread of chest hair textured his pectorals and flirted with the northern borders of his abdomen A thin line trailed the southern region below his belly button into the top of his trousers. It was by this area of his pants that Amelia seized him and pulled him against her again into a passionate fury of kissing.

"I thought we were going to go into your room," Amelia managed to get out.

"Fuck it," was all Leonard said as both of his hands instantly found their way up the sides of her legs under her skirt. His fingers curled around the top of her bloomers at either side. Just as they were about to pull them away from her, Amelia speedily contained them over her uniform.

"_Leonard_!" she hissed, pulling away from his mouth and instantly staring wide-eyed at the door. "What if someone walks in?"

"The door is shut. No one is going to walk into my office," he assured her, leaning in to kiss her again.

Amelia leaned further away. "Let's just go into your quarters. I've seen Christine walk into your office before without knocking."

"Christine is tending to patients out there, she's fine." His attempt at kissing her again proved futile as Amelia raised an eyebrow at him. "It's my break, Amelia. She knows _not_ to disturb me on my break!"

Amelia considered this for a moment. "Fine." Amelia released his hands and wrapped her arms around his neck again. The moment her grip on his hands was gone, in one strong pull, Leonard had her bloomers down to her knees. He pulled away from her only to see to it that the bloomers fell to the floor before he wedged himself between her thighs again, one of his hands returning under the skant. Back on course, his fingers knowingly felt their way up her soft flesh, higher and higher up. He could feel the pounding of Amelia's heart against his chest; he could hear the light gasps of pleasure that escaped her lips as he firmly kissed her neck. Her legs and arms wrapped around him in a state of absolute anticipation awaiting his touch at the arrival of his destination.

There was a loud knock on the door. "Doctor?"

As if a photon exploded between them, Amelia threw Leonard off of her, hopped off of the counter and flew into his quarters. In a frenzy, Leonard scooped up her bloomers and clumsily threw them in the direction of the door of his room just as the door to his office slid opened, revealing Christine Chapel with her PADD. Christine looked up at him and her lips became a thin line across her face.

"Nurse," Leonard greeted, out of breath. "I was just, uh, working out, doing some sit-ups."

Christine cocked an eyebrow, her eyes slowly lowering. "With all due respect, sir, you have an erection. Again."

Leonard glared at her. "Yeah, well, Nurse, maybe I wouldn't have an erection_ if you'd just let me finish my break_."

Christine tossed the PADD onto the counter without stepping a foot over the threshold. "For when you're finished, Doctor." She stepped back and the doors closed.

:::::

Jim, Scotty and Sulu grabbed their uniform tunics from off of the red tumbling mats, each coming off of his own adrenaline high as the sounds of weights clattering together, grunts and a low background melody encompassed the gym. For them, it was best to visit the area in the later hours of the evening because there was less foot traffic as many of the crewmen headed straight to the bar or bed after a shift when it was late.

"It was really good to actually see you without an engine manual or a glass of Scotch in your hand," Sulu commented as he ran the uniform top across his sweaty forehead like a towel. Each of their muscular frames glistened under the light, each toned crevice highlighted in white shimmer. Jim won in terms of bulk; Scotty's build was more so lean as he preferred to drink or study over physically working out. Sulu's build was almost like that of a dancer. His torso was longer and he wasn't as broad as Jim, but his muscles were finely toned.

"Yeah, well, I suppose I wanted to try a new challenge," Scotty stated with a wink.

"Any chance this will be a normal thing?" Jim inquired, tucking his tunic into the waistline of his pants.

Scotty laughed. "Someone's got to be on top of the engines, Jim."

"And you're just the man to ride them, ey?"

Scotty gave him a look. "That's the only riding I've been doing lately."

Sulu chuckled while Jim gave him a reassuring smirk. "At least we know _someone_ is getting some action around here," Jim remarked in Sulu's direction.

Sulu rolled his eyes. "He's barely legal. You try being abstinent at eighteen."

"I don't think the captain's ever heard of the term," Scotty joked, nudging Jim with an elbow. "Does not compute, ey lad?"

Jim shook his head. "That definitely was not the case back then."

"I'm sure you've got a right sexy communicative lassie waitin' 'specially for you," Scotty stated, shooting a Sulu a look to which Sulu returned with a nod.

"I've heard that women who have a rough day at work tend to take out all of their frustrations sexually that night," Sulu mentioned in the captain's direction. "And, boy, was she glaring you down in that briefing."

"I can guarantee you, guys, that that rule does _not_ apply to Nyota," Jim explained, lowering his voice ever so slightly as they passed into the locker and shower room. "Based on her mood today, if I even so as glance at her with the look, she'll scratch my eyes out."

They all stopped just before the shower area. A few stalls were already occupied. Sulu searched the area.

"Wow, Jim, I didn't realize – you and her been ok?" Scotty asked, tossing his tunic over his shoulder.

Jim ran a hand through his hair. "I don't really know anymore, Scotty. It's hot and cold with her."

"Fights?" Sulu asked over his shoulder. "Relationships amongst lower ranking personnel can be a complicated feat."

Jim took a seat on the nearest bench. "See, that's the thing; her and I, we aren't really in a relationship."

Sulu looked at him curiously. "Really? Does she want you to take it to the next level?"

Jim shook his head. "She hasn't said anything on the matter."

"Do you?" Scotty asked.

Jim shrugged.

"Fuck buddies," Sulu diagnosed. "Plain and simple. But I think you're entering a danger zone, if I may be so bold."

"How so?"

"Because," Sulu replied simply, "You're starting to think about it. You're letting it get to you. You _say_ it's just sex, but when she starts banging someone from security, it'll eat you up." Sulu crossed his arms over his glistening chest. "Trust me, I've tried it. I get too emotionally entangled to be detached."

Jim thought about this for a moment. He raised an eyebrow at Sulu. "You mean to say that you can't just screw somebody and leave?"

Sulu smirked, shaking his head. "I know; what a fascinating concept."

Jim turned to Scotty. "You?"

Scotty looked uncomfortable as he was put on the spot. "Well, uh, _maybe_ if I was drunk enough. But generally I tend to get to know a girl before I sleep with her. And I'm very good at calling her back."

Jim had been having sex with Nyota Uhura since he entered the Academy. She hated him and refused to give him her first name up until Spock had said it during a mission. But Jim had managed to charm his way into her pants – or under her skant – before then. It was not a romantic feat in the least; one day she was verbally ripping him a new one and then suddenly they were naked in each other's arms. One time became a once weekly thing where neither of them talked about it. It just happened. Nyota continued to outwardly despise him and Jim continued his never ending pursuit to piss her off. Once a week became thrice a week until suddenly they were pulling out of the hallways into random storage spaces (while on shift) for a quickie. This became a more constant tradition whenever Jim was in some kind of command bind. Lately, though, the sexual encounters had become less frequent. It wasn't necessarily anyone's fault and nothing had actually changed between them. Jim was still aroused and wanted to have sex, but he found himself not actually seeking Nyota out. He hadn't sought anyone out recently. They each had other people on the side but even those girls hardly ever heard from him.

Perhaps the sex was becoming too casual. Maybe a relationship was something Jim could eventually desire. After all, his closest friends seemed to be happy in their relationships. Bones was only ever truly happy after seeing Amelia; Sulu and Chekov complimented each other perfectly. In fact, Jim never heard any news of drama between them. And if there was any, he wouldn't be the first to know; that was Amelia's territory. But then there was Skylar and Spock … Jim wasn't sure if anyone had an actual facts pertaining to their relationship. They both were themselves around each other. There was hardly ever – if _any_ – PDA between them. Jim knew that Spock requested that his breaks, as little as he requested, be timed around Skylar's, but that was it.

Jim started to think about his predicament again. Perhaps the game was beginning to get boring because it wasn't challenging enough. For the longest time, the sex with Nyota was absolute bliss because she played hard to get so incredibly well. It had been a game of cat and mouse; sometimes Jim was the cat and sometimes he was the mouse. He quite enjoyed being the mouse. It was sexy and especially arousing. The other girls were a chinch – as modestly as possible, Jim understood that most women on the _Enterprise_, especially lower ranking ones, would easily accept his invitation. Most of them would do so because he was the captain and a dashing one at that – or so he'd been told on countless occasions. The equivalent would also accept for the possibility at a fast career advancement. Unfortunately, this also led to Jim's entrapment. He had to please the few girls he'd sleep with so that he would not have to overstep his political boundaries too often to where it would raise a few eyebrows and he had to make sure that he was not offering himself to too many ladies so as to have an anti-Jim army uproar.

Maybe Jim was beginning to feel uninterested in Nyota. Maybe this was the same on her end. He wasn't sure because they never actually had thoughtful conversations unless it was work related. Perhaps Jim needed a new lover, someone just as distant yet willing to take a step in the monogamous direction. His choices were limited to pursuing a total stranger. All of his female friends were in relationships. He enjoyed Amelia's company a lot. She was witty and intelligent, and they way she handled herself yet maintained the dependable girlfriend to Leonard was enticing. Any time she wasn't on duty, Amelia was cutely fashionable. Jim really enjoyed her style and how she did her make-up. She was always pleasing to the eye. Jim knew that Leonard didn't always take the time to notice those types of things because he wasn't much into fashion at all, but Jim knew that Leonard was appreciative of what he had. Even though Leonard was older than her – than all of them, actually – and he didn't care much for clubbing or girly cocktails, the Southern gentleman was still a gentleman. He attended events that Amelia wanted to go to, even when he bitched to Jim about having to go. Despite Amelia's full capability of handling herself both physically but more so vocally, Leonard never missed a beat to open the door for her, pull out a chair for her, or even cuss out a guy making eyes at her. And even when Amelia would chastise him for being so gruff, Jim knew that she wouldn't have Leonard any other way. In fact, though he'd never heard the words uttered between them, nor had Bones ever told him – and he would – Jim was certain that they loved each other. When he and Leonard talked man talk over a beer, Leonard's description of sex between him and Amelia was anything but that three lettered word, even though that's what Leonard called it. Jim refused to accept that. Leonard described making love, not sex. All Jim could ever describe would be called sex. But Leonard was not that type of man. He was rarely a horny teenager about those types of things. He'd rarely ever had a Jim-type quickie encounter. They were always in his or her quarters, usually having dinner or just talking and the night would ease into the mood. It was custom, according to Leonard, that one never leaves the room after sex. Leonard always stayed and he always ended the evening in holding her. Jim always ended up leaving after a brief exchange of thank yous and 'see you again sometime' fibs.

Jim couldn't adhere to Bones' old man tactics. He hadn't found his Amelia yet, he concluded.

Jim's mind wandered to Skylar again, the mystery. Skylar was a perfect mixture of Amelia and Nyota. She, too, was witty and fun to be around; she also had her sexy and bitchy moments as well. Skylar was easily one of the boys yet she maintained the ability to cross over into the datable realm. Jim was unsure if he could ever actually be attracted to her. She almost had the older sister feel to her. He could hang with her, rough house with her, maybe even slip in an inappropriate joke or touch, but he didn't know if he could go in for the kill. In a way, Skylar almost reminded him of … himself. It almost irked Jim that she could be with someone like Spock. He knew that _he_ could never date a Vulcan. He would rather make out with Chekov and Sulu in a three way than follow that path. Perhaps this is why he found their relationship to be so intriguing and practically frustrating. Skylar was so badass and Spock was so by the book. She cussed and fought freely; Spock corrected grammar and memorized Earth history. If Jim had to pin anyone other than Skylar with Spock, he would have assumed that Amelia would have been the likely choice; after all, those two had more in common over Skylar and Spock. Amelia had a tendency to be scientifically driven. Sometimes her own way of being logical got on Bones' nerves. But ultimately, fate was having the last laugh, and for some reason unbeknownst to him, the lack of understanding was pissing Jim off.

"You okay?"

Sulu's honest words brought Jim back into reality. He tipped his chin up at his friends and gave them a brief smirk.

"Yeah, just trying to figure this shit out. I hate having top deal with all of this drama right when I need to have my mind focused on this issue with the Trills."

Scotty placed a hand on Jim's shoulder and then quickly removed it, unsure of what was appropriate in a sweaty, half naked, male environment. "It'll work out, Jim. Don't let it get your bloomers in a twist. Trill is the most important thing right now, after all."

Jim nodded. "Thanks, guys."

"Well, I'm going to take a shower," Sulu stated.

Scotty looked at him. "I'll join ya." He instantly paused and rolled his eyes at the looks he got from both men. "On the _far_ side of the room. You boys _know_ what I meant."

Jim stood. "I'm going to head to Skylar's office. Her skant was delivered to her and I want to raise some hell with it."

Both Sulu and Scotty chuckled as they headed in the direction of the showers, Scotty slowly widening the gap between them. Jim heard Sulu say playfully, "I hope we get showers right next to each other," and he chuckled and headed for the exit.

Still shirtless, Jim made the short trek toward Skylar's office, whistling a peppy tune as he did so. Security teams were busy training on the circuits, lovingly created hells that Skylar had developed that often landed some of the weaker crewmen into Sick Bay. Jim chuckled at that thought, internally grateful he'd never had tactical or weapons training under Skylar. Of all of the tactical officers and security chiefs onboard, he'd heard that she was one of the most merciless. She personally trained every one of her recruits and handed their asses to them in hand to hand combat. She was not afraid to stun anyone up close and personally. She was responsible for many of the dehydration cases, broken bones and Bones' late shift hours. Of all of the crewmen Bones saw on a regular basis, Skylar held the tally for most Sick Bay visits; even though she was generous when it came to injuring her men, there were never any hard feelings when she wound up in Sick Bay after a one on one session with her crewmen. If anything, she beleaguered them with running laps as a sort of punishment. Jim had known many instructors like this; he figured that in actuality she took in pride seeing that her pupils were able to comprehend the grueling training she implemented and that the laps were a means as to keeping her pride in tact. Jim knew Skylar wasn't a complete matriarchal bitch – keyword: complete.

Jim pressed the touchpad on the right side of the door and the doors slid open to reveal Skylar on her tiptoes as she reached up to one of the shelves for a part for the mangled phaser on her desk. The hem of her newly fashioned red skant was lifted up enough to expose the bottom elastic of her red bloomers – a sight Jim _never_ expected to see – and two slender, lengthy legs that maintained a beautifully tanned complexion. Jim could not help but find his eyesight lingering on the curve of the back of her upper thighs as they rounded outward and filled the inside of her bloomers. Suddenly, a familiar electricity on his muscular highway sparked and instantly Jim pulled his tunic out of the waistline of this pants and held them before his zipper just in case the unthinkable happened. And at this moment, he was both shocked and certain of the possibility.

Skylar turned toward him at the sound of the doors opening. She immediately tugged on the bottom of the skant. "I hate you," she said simply, moving behind her desk.

"I think it's becoming," Jim remarked playfully, attempting to keep his cool as he entered the office.

"You're an ass," Skylar retorted. "And why the hell are you naked in my office?"

"Why are you?"

Skylar glared at him. "_Yeoman_," she muttered in disgust. "Of all of the shitty jobs on this buckle of bolts, you give me _Yeoman_… "

"I need you with me. You have to keep me protected just in case things on Trill get out of hand. As your boyfriend would say, it's logical."

Skylar crossed her arms over her chest and sat herself on the edge of the desktop. "I still can't believe Starfleet ordered this."

Jim was idly looking over the various weapons the adorned the office partly because he was often ever in the room and partly as a distraction. His mind was racing as to why he was so aroused lately. It must have been the lack of sex. That was the only explanation. Jim Kirk was not used to not having sex. But the depravity was beginning to take a turn for the strange. Skylar was an attractive young woman, but he'd never been _turned on_ by her. After all, they were only friends. It was like him and Amelia; they were each attractive, and yeah, maybe his curious mind had once wondered what they each looked like naked, but he'd never lingered on the subject. They were his best friends' girls. They were part of his crew, part of his clique and part of the danger zone that he was not allowed to enter.

_Heheh … enter_, his perverted mind chuckled.

"It would be an important feat for the Federation," Jim replied, turning to her. "And they wanted the best ship in the fleet to represent their negotiations. This particular Trill representative, Senator Dorraine, is known for his temper and hostility to guests he deems unwelcome."

"Sounds like fun," Skylar commented. "But if you don't recall, which you may not since you were in such a delusional stated during the entirety of the meeting, I know exactly why we are going to Trill. I also know what it is that I have to do. I'm going to do it because I have to, but I reserve the right to bitch about it."

"Hey, think about it this way; all those flashy flips and jumps that you do will be considerably easier without pants on."

Skylar rolled her eyes. "Are you ever _not_ a horn-dog? I mean, I put on a skirt for five seconds and you've already got your shirt off."

Jim laughed. "And I'm not on the floor yet. That says something about your defenses. Maybe you're too afraid to break a nail."

"Have I told you that I absolutely hate you? Oh, perhaps you've heard that too many times for it to actually register anymore."

Jim crossed his arms over his chest. "Ouch, Sky. That hit me right here." He rubbed his sweaty chest.

Skylar cocked an eyebrow at him. "You're lucky I don't hit lower."

"That's a first. You're invited to try."

Skylar hopped off of the desk. A smirk crossed her face. "Is that a serious challenge, Kirk?"

Jim threw his shirt to the side and opened his stance, motioning to her with a hand.

"You realize I've kicked your ass before?" Skylar continued.

"That was back at the Academy. Things could change."

Skylar jabbed out at Jim with a fist and the captain cunningly ducked. He popped up just in time to receive a blow to his side by Skylar's foot. Jim lurched to the side, finding his footing as to not fall down.

Skylar laughed. "You sure you want to get bruised up before Senator Dorraine gets a turn with you?"

Jim lunged at her and Skylar spun out of the way to the wall where some vases and old military books, amongst other manuals and trinkets sat on a book case. She grabbed a book and flung it at him, Jim dodging it while he seized the phaser off of her desk.

"No, Jim!" she screeched, and Jim threw it in her direction. Skylar caught it just before the already damaged phaser smashed onto the floor and it was at this moment the clever captain came up from behind her and grabbed her around the waist and across the chest. Skylar struggled against him but her arms were pinned. "Dammit, Jim!" she called out, partially laughing, as Jim held her tight and moved his feet to avoid the heels from her boots and she led them in an evasive dance.

"Who's kicking whose ass now?" Jim taunted as he held her against him. He could feel the material of her skant riding up between them. Her backside was in his lap as she moved in an effort to get away, yet the friction was still very powerfully apparent. His mind wandered for a moment, his hand accidentally cupped over her left breast; the other holding fast to her right hip. Skylar pounded at him with the phaser and her other arm was attempting to elbow him. His body was beginning to speak to him. _You've got to be kidding me_, he thought. _It's just a little fight._

As his arousal was starting to form, Jim absently released his grip ever so slightly – which was just enough indication for Skylar to advance. With a loud groan her hand flew up behind his neck and she bent low, propelling Jim with all of her body weight up and over her shoulder. At the last second she attempted to delay the fall by keeping her grip on him, also an indication to Jim that he ought to prepare for his landing. Having had fun in this course at the Academy, Jim bent his knees so that his feet would aid in the fall. Together, they both fell, Jim landing on his back and Skylar landing face down on his chest.

"Shit," Jim laughed as Skylar rolled away from him. He sat up and brought his knees in just in case his arousal decided to show itself.

"I'll deem that a tie," Skylar said, sitting up. "I'm feeling exceptionally generous."

"And I'll be heading back to my quarters now," he told her. "If Spock was here, he'd cite regulation about rough housing in undesignated areas of the ship."

Skylar immediately stood up. "Oh crap, I should go find that Vulcan. I want to see what's up with him. He's been acting kind of weird lately." She reached out for Jim to help him up but he waved her hand away. She chuckled. "I didn't injure you, did I?"

Jim played the mock-macho look. "Injure _me_? Psh! I'm just going to take a breather, you go run along. I think your boy toy was headed to his quarters to sulk."

"So you've noticed it, too."

Jim nodded. "We all have, actually. Maybe you could talk to him?"

"Yeah, I'll see what's up and fill you in."

"Thanks, Sky. Good luck."

Skylar smirked. "Thanks for the workout, Jim."

"Hey, it wouldn't be the first time I've heard that one."

As she passed him en route for the door, Skylar playfully kicked him in the calf.

"Ouch!" Jim called out, bringing his leg in protectively.

"Later, ass-wipe," Skylar remarked over her shoulder as she proceeded out the door.

When she was gone, Jim exhaled deeply. "Well, Jim-boy, maybe it's time to see what Nyota is up to."


	3. Control

**III. Control. **

Spock had been meditating all afternoon and evening since the briefing. He sat on his bed with his knees up and his fingertips on his temples, the quiet humming of the ship in the background the perfect, tranquil soundtrack to aid in his thought process. Inside, his body was a tremulous war zone. His mind raced. His muscles were rigid like grounds laden with landmines prepared to go off at any moment. His teeth were gnashed together, the pressure between them at dangerous levels like a convergent fault.

This wasn't the first time Spock had felt like this and it certainly wouldn't be the last. The problem was was that this was the first time he'd felt like this on a starship, far, far away from any solution to the problem. Well, there was a solution but it terrified him. The _Enterprise_ was not in range to take Spock back to Earth with time to spare in resuming their current mission. Of course, Skylar would be available to aid in his predicament … but at what cost? At the moment, she was too valuable to be put in such a dangerous situation.

There was a knock on the door. Spock slowly raised his head and waited for a moment. His heart was pounding. He exhaled deeply and released his fingers from his temples. His body ached from being so rigid. Spock ignored it. It was illogical to dwell. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood and proceeded to the door with his arms more so at his sides. Pressing the keypad on the panel to unlock the entryway, the doors opened up revealing Skylar.

He raised an already slanted eyebrow. "Fascinating."

Skylar quickly lowered her glance, remembering what she was wearing and then rolled her eyes. Returning her gaze up at him, she said with a hint of disgust, "Captain's orders." She paused. There was a slight awkwardness hanging in the air as the next question came out of her mouth. "Can I come in?"

"Odd," he stated. "This is not a general query from you. It is assumed that you desire to enter when you visit my quarters."

"I know … but I didn't want to disturb you if you were busy," Skylar said, reaching out to touch his arm.

Spock caught her at the elbow and gently led her into the room. The lights were low.

"Were you meditating?" she inquired.

"I was," he replied.

"I can come back, Spock."

"No," he said firmly. He wrapped his arms around her. "I would prefer it if you stayed.

Her chin resting on his chest, she looked up at him. "Are you okay, Spock? A couple of us have noticed that you haven't been yourself lately."

"And what have the couple of you noticed?"

Skylar shrugged against him. "You just seem … off."

"That is not an adequately descriptive observation, Skylar," the Vulcan said, his low voice slightly vibrating through his chest against her chin.

Skylar watched him for a moment. His eyes seemed darker, but then again the lack of light could have easily contributed to that. His grip around her was tight; it was lovely from her standpoint, but it was unusually tight. The only time he ever gripped her so tightly was when they made love. Being a Vulcan, it was hard for him to control his own strength during such an emotionally charged and vigorous release. She was sure many Vulcans would have simply had sex as they saw fit; but she knew Spock was very good at controlling himself. He made it a point to make sure that he was not being too rough. Skylar found this quality so incredibly sexy because she could see how much Spock wanted to lose control but he managed to retain himself. She wanted him to be comfortable; she wanted him to do what he had to do as a Vulcan because that was exactly what he was – at least most of him, anyway. In fact, the curious side of her wanted Spock to be rough. She wanted to know if she could handle him the way he handled her. But Spock always refused. There was always a constant power struggle between the animalistic Vulcan side and the emotionally repressed humanistic side. It was during this time that she caught flashes of human Spock. It was a very hard struggle to watch, but it was also flattering that he should share something so intimate with her.

"Please know that if there is something you want to talk about that I'm here," Skylar told him barely louder than a whisper. "You can tell me anything and I'll do whatever I can to help."

"I understand," he replied. "Your intentions are regarded."

"A simple thank you would have been okay," she challenged. Skylar tilted her head back and kissed him. As she started to part his lips with her tongue, Spock turned away though he did not release her. Skylar watched him curiously, maintaining calm concern. "Why don't you want to kiss me?"

Spock released her completely and turned, taking a glass from the counter. As he began to fill it with water from a tall, slender jar, he replied over his shoulder, "How is your new uniform to your liking?"

Clicking her tongue and crossing her arms over her chest, Skylar took a few steps towards the counter. "It's horrible. I feel absolutely naked and inappropriately prepared."

Spock took a drink from his glass. "That is shame. I find that it looks rather becoming on you."

"That's what Jim said."

Spock turned to her. "The captain has been known to have discriminating taste from time to time, at least in terms of fashion."

Skylar placed her fingers on Spock's shoulder and slowly turned him so that he was facing her. "If it is so 'becoming' then why do you refuse to look at me?"

He stared into her eyes. "That is not necessarily my intention …" Spock reached out to put the glass of water back on the counter when suddenly it broke in his hand. The sharp alarm of the shatter startled Skylar as she instantly took hold of his wrist.

"Are you okay?" she queried, alarmed.

Spock released the remaining shards of glass onto the counter, revealing a simple cut on his the skin between his thumb and index finger. The soft green of blood was beginning to form in the torn skin. "I apologize if you were startled, but I've sustained no significant injuries."

Skylar grabbed the vase of water and ran some of the water over it. Looking around for any sign of hand towel, she quickly brought up the pleat of her skant to press against the wound. Spock quickly retracted his hand. "It's just to dry it, Spock," she argued softly. "And it's the underside, no one will ever know." She took a firm hold around his wrist and brought it back down to the hem where she folded the fabric up and pressed it to the cut. Spock watched her perfect first aid skills come to life with such primitive materials. In doing so, he caught a glimpse of her upper thigh. He blinked as his arms began to stiffen and abdominal muscles clenched. His teeth began to clench again. It was returning. An overwhelming sensation of primal instinct swept over him. Spock wanted her to leave, but another part of him wondered why. After all, she was his mate … but would this really be an appropriate conquest two nights away from the arrival of Trill? Maybe taking her would cease the fever all together, considering that his meditation was not working as quickly as he'd surmised.

As Skylar lightly tugged on his hand, applying pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding, Spock allowed his hand toward her. The very end of his middle fingertip very gently brushed the inside of her thigh. He could feel the pulse in her grip around his wrist jump. She knew of his position. He could not help but wonder if she thought it to be simply casual contact or a sexual advancement. Skylar's eyes flashed up at his and he kept them on hers while she went back to sweeping off the last of the water and blood.

"There, all better," she remarked, releasing his hand and dropping the pleat.

Spock's hand remained. "I told that there was nothing to worry about." All five of Spock's fingertips were now in contact with Skylar's inner thigh. She was locked in his glance. She was such a fascinating creature to observe in these types of situations. Skylar was a woman about dominance, Spock had calculated. She handled situations admirably under pressure solo or when given a leadership role. During a sparring match, her only goal was to dominate over her opponent. She and Nyota subconsciously bickered over their female social dominance. To anyone observing, Skylar was a significant display of an aptly powerful woman. However, Spock had found her weakness … _him_. He was well aware of how uncomfortable she became when she was not in control anymore. And in the bedroom, as much as she struggled for dominance, Skylar had yet to succeed. Spock was too strong for her. He, too, was well aware of this need for control. He knew Skylar would become frustrated at times but that frustration turned into fuel. Skylar would eventually submit. Spock always found this intriguing. In any other situation, backing down would never be an option. Perhaps she realized that her cause against the biology of a Vulcan was a no-win situation and that it was simply logical to allow him the control. Or perhaps, though she would never vocally admit it, Skylar _enjoyed_ the captivity. Spock had yet to solidify a theory. As a scientist, though, he was always inclined to experiment. And maybe on some level Skylar was aware that she was the guinea pig, but this, too, would never be admitted. There was only mutual trust in the other's company, and Spock concluded that that was enough.

Now he could hear the acute increase of her heart rate. Her skin was smooth and warm to the touch. It was pleasurable. Naturally, the rest of his hand slid around her thigh, caressing her skin delicately. Skylar's hands curled into fists. Very soon she would be on him, but as always, Spock would reject such a forward action. He preferred a slower, more observed process. He preferred stimulating her by any means until she would almost fight him for advancement; then he would silence her actions by distracting her with focuses on other parts of her body. He knew she yearned for instant gratification as any human did. Spock would not allow it. Anything too rigorous could make him lose control … and hurt her, especially now. His body was on red alert. He could feel how warm his own skin was. He blood was racing faster than usual, even when aroused. Had the circumstance been any different, had he been completely Vulcan, he would not have considered her safety because the whole quandary would not have been about her at all. But his human side, as quiet as it was, spoke to him. It rallied for her wellbeing. And he made his Vulcan side listen. Spock had to control himself. Failure was not an option.

Running his hand up the short distance between her thigh and the brim of her bloomers, he stopped at the inner gap between her legs as his hand had nowhere else to go. Spock tightened his grip around her leg. He pulled her close like this, Skylar gasping as she was moved to him. His hand moved to the outside of her other leg now, his other hand mirroring. He gripped the lower curves on her bottom right below the hemlines of her bloomers. Skylar wrapped her arms around his neck and together they picked her up off of the floor, her legs now tightly wrapped around his waist. Spock allowed her to kiss his neck as he carried her easily to the bed. He lowered her, her legs holding him bound, and remained above her. He knew she wanted to feel him upon her. Spock did not condone it. He straightened up and unlocked her legs, removing her boots. He watched her. Skylar was breathing hard but he was sure that it wasn't completely from her arousal; a hint of fear was in her eyes. She was a smart lover; she understood his touch and she could tell that there was something different about it. They had not kissed at all. Skylar was up on her elbows, watching him, searching for a hint of him. But as much as Spock wanted to make this like any other night, it could not be done. The predicament was altered … he was altered. The best that he could do would be to maintain control.

Skylar was not wearing Federation regulated stockings so access would be easy. However, that was not his current target. He told himself that perhaps she would not look so differently at him if he allowed her something. He bent forward over her, his arms caging her in over her shoulders, and kissed her. She did not part his lips – he parted hers. Hard. Maybe a little too hard. Regardless, she tilted her chin up ever so slightly to meet the movement of his face. He heard her against the sheets. Her thighs brushed anxiously against his. Her hands cupped tightly around his biceps. He knew she wanted him on top of her. He did not do so. As his tongue aggressively massaged hers, Spock felt her hands move down his sides to the bottom of his Science Officer tunic. She pulled it up along his leanly muscular torso. Her thumbs brushed against his skin in the process. It was pleasurable. He maintained control and continued kissing her passionately until she was forced to stop the process. In fairness, he allowed her to take the article of clothing off. He straightened up as she clumsily pulled the tunic off of him and cunningly seized the moment to sit upright against his midsection. He was on his knees before her as she kissed the hardened area above his bellybutton. Spock watched her, his heart racing. His hands were balled into fists. Not good. She was very good at turning him on. This could be potentially dangerous. Perhaps a softer course of action would be efficient. Relaxing a fist, he released her hair from its high ponytail and let it fall gracefully down her back. He ran his fingers through it. Something dark inside of him told him to pull. He clenched at the thought. His fingers began to curl. Spock let his hand run down the side of her face, cupping her jaw line in his hand. His thumb rested on her throat, lightly caressing her flesh. The distant pulsating rhythm from the blood flow in her neck against his skin was stimulating. They locked in a stare at each other. Spock tried to soften his features but by the look on Skylar's face, he knew that she was aware of something else present. As gently as possible, Spock provoked her to turn so that she was facing away from him. He carefully placed her hair over her shoulder, moving a hand firmly down her arm as he did so. Then Spock located the zipper to the skant. He knew instantly how uncomfortable Skylar was. She was not used to this step in the process. There was only ever a swift removal of a tunic over her head and a pull of her pants and they could be on their way to bliss without leaving the bed. The skant would require her to stand to step out of it.

Spock unzipped the zipper all the way down to right above the top of her bottom. His hands instantly went to her shoulders, gripping them tightly and giving a brief, firm massage before they slid over the curves of each shoulder causing the top of the skant to fall down half the length of her arms. Without leaving her flesh, Spock's hands moved around to the front where her breasts were just barely exposed. His hands closed around them easily and tightly, massaging them more forcibly than usual. Skylar tilted her head back against his chest as a sharp gasp escaped her lips. In a way to attempt to comfort her, Spock leaned in and kissed her – hard. His body wanted nothing more than to ravish her then and there, but Spock's mind was working on overload to restrain himself. As his hands closed hard over her breasts again, Skylar whimpered thought it was muffled as they kissed. She began to remove her arms from the confinement of the skant when suddenly Spock seized her by the shoulders and forced her up next to the bed. His thumbs hooked into the top of the skant and he pulled the whole thing down effortlessly, leaving Skylar standing in nothing but her bloomers. She reached out to touch him on the face but Spock caught her by the wrist. Skylar slightly pulled away but he maintained his grip – a test, he deduced, as she searched for another option in seducing him. Opening her caged hand, Skylar wrapped her fingers around his wrist and pulled hard, bringing Spock to a standing position; or rather, he allowed himself to be pulled by her as an attempt to win back her trust. _Cat and mouse, cat and mouse_, his mind mused.

Spock stood before her and Skylar stared up at him. He released her hand and she instantly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants so that they, too, fell next to her skant. He stepped out of them as she pushed him back onto the bed, on top of him. They both were in only their underwear, Skylar sitting on top of him. She could finally feel him completely. She bent over him, gripping his wrists and pressing them into the sheet as she kissed him hand, her pelvis automatically pressing into his, his arousal now very apparent against her. Spock could feel everything in his being beginning to lose control. His mind was starting to focus on what his body wanted and it wanted nothing more than to be inside of her. He freed his hands from her grip and she continued to kiss him, her hands moving to either side of his jaw line.

_Control_, his mind commanded, and his hands found the sides of her thighs. Pressing into them, he ran his fingertips up the length of her legs, up to the bottom hem of her bloomers. She was now moving against him dangerously. She knew what he wanted and he knew that she took great pleasure both mentally and physically in teasing him. Seizing her firmly, he flipped them over so that he was now on top of her. Skylar was not entirely disappointed by the foiling of her playtime, he observed. She ran her hands over his shoulders, around the outside of his chest down towards the brim of his black boxer briefs. Just before she could slip her fingers around the fabric, he caught her hand and removed it. Almost glaring up at him, Skylar tried the next best move to have the upper hand (and a childish attempt to irritate him): she placed her thumbs inside of the sides of her bloomers and started to push them down. Spock instantly sat up and held her hands in place.

_End it_, his mind instructed. His body couldn't wait any longer. There was an element of hostility coming over him. He couldn't hurt her; it wasn't her fault at all, but Spock was finding it harder and harder to control himself with her. Skylar, even when she couldn't necessarily have control of the situation, found ways to make it harder for Spock to maintain it. And at this point, she was putting herself at risk to an even higher level of dangerous Vulcan behavior. The insatiable craving had already begun … and during any other time, Skylar would have satisfied him completely. Tonight, she would merely be a morsel.

As Skylar moved upward on the bed, Spock pulled her bloomers downward. After releasing her from them and discarding them instantly, Spock moved over her again, freeing himself from his own boxer briefs in the process. Skylar wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up to kiss him but he refuted it. Instead, he took her hands away from him and he watched her. She stared up at him intensely. There was fear again; small, but present. Perhaps she was second guessing her desire to be vulnerable under him. Regardless, she'd allowed it to happen; she no longer had a choice. Spock entered her. Skylar instantly curved her back so that her flat tummy arched up towards his. He pulled back and pressed into her harder. She tilted her head back on the pillow. He retracted and then pushed into her again, harder. She moaned. He continued the process. It became more aggressive. Skylar moaned again, louder. Spock was shaking. He was desperately trying not to hurt her, but his body was taking over. His mind raced. The landmines in his muscles were beginning to explode. His teeth were gritted together and he had the overwhelming urge to break something with his fists. More than ever, he wanted a release. He seized her wrists together in one hand and pinned them over her head. She struggled against him; he lowered himself down and tried to reassure her that he wasn't trying to hurt her. He kissed her, her whimpers ringing in his ears. The kissing became harder. Her flesh was delightful against his tongue. Nudging her chin with the bridge of his nose roughly, he began to kiss her around her jugular … no, he wasn't kissing anymore. He was biting her. His mind chided him. _Not hard, not too hard_.

It was almost over. Spock could feel it. The fever wasn't going away. A fearful awakening seized him but his mind wouldn't focus on that. Instead, it lingered on what was currently happening. Skylar was completely taking him in. It was rougher than usual. The internal war was waging and her body was the battlefield. His face was buried in the crook of her neck. She was moaning. These moans were different. They triggered something in him; she was surrendering. His body had conquered.

He released his victim's hands and they moved stealthily to his chest, wrapping around him in hopes of a comforting embrace. They always ended like that, holding each other as they finished in harmonious ecstasy. Spock could not embrace her. It wasn't about her. Skylar clung to him, her face now against his. In her final moments she searched for something familiar. His black eyes were merely pools, annulled of comfort. Spock managed to return his face to the crook of her neck. He hid there. He thrusted into her, harder and faster than ever. He wanted release, _needed_ that release. Suddenly Skylar recoiled against him, unusually silent. This triggered him. Every muscle within him tensed. He wrapped an arm tightly around her back, entrapping her. They stayed paused in this moment as they each finished, Spock breathing hard into her ear. Skylar's hands were balled into fists between their chests, the only separation between their bodies. She whimpered against him again.

Although it was still present, the fever subsided. Still holding onto her almost effortlessly, Spock found himself again. His face was still buried into the crook of her head and instantly – and apologetically – he began to kiss her jaw tenderly. Suddenly, she rejected his touch. He opened his eyes. He gritted his teeth. Her neck was bruised. Dark purple circular marks painfully lined her neck. Spock gently laid her back against the pillow. He finally looked at her. Skylar stared up at him, breathing hard. Her brown eyes were brimmed with tears but she did not look scared. She was searching again.

"Skylar," Spock started to whisper but her finger caught his lips.

Skylar looked at him for another moment and then turned over and away from him. Her brown hair fell over against the pillow, revealing more bruise marks on her shoulder. His fingers went to touch them but Skylar shrugged his hand away. Spock laid his head on the pillow behind hers. Carefully, he placed his arm around her. He bumped her breast and she shuddered against him. He instantly moved so that his arm was under hers and away from her chest. He listened to her breathing. He listened as she began to attempt to mask the fact that she was now allowing her tears to fall. Spock remained awake when she eventually fell asleep.

Spock could not fall asleep. Instead, the fever reminded him that tonight he dominated her – but he had yet to win the war.


	4. Emotion

**A/N: **A very special THANK YOU to the lovely **Tridacnagigas**. Your writing ethic is a work of eloquent art. (check her page out)

IV. Emotion.

If anyone was happy, it was Lt. Amelia Takashi. Trying desperately not to bounce around the programming wing amidst anxious, fidgety peers who were each consumed by their own personal states of cabin fever syndrome, a blatant smile was literally programmed into Amelia's facial muscles. Her fingertips danced gracefully across her screen-board as she inputted data and fed coding into the system. She – or rather, the crewmen around her – caught herself humming a few classic tunes that no one around her would recognize, and there was an apparent bounce in every fluid step when she moved about the corridors. She handed off PADDs to other crewmen with enough vibrant enthusiasm to push them over.

Despite how obviously elated Amelia was, no one asked her as to why. If anything, everyone assumed that it was because the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ was to dock on Trill the following day; that in itself was reason enough to celebrate. Even though no one aside from the small away team assembled by Captain Kirk had been given clearance to beam down to the planet's surface, it still meant that most of the chief officers would be off-ship – which meant less pairs of eyes wandering about. This was enough to boost crew morale into a frenzy of finishing a good chunk of the work so that those few precious days that they would be docked at Trill would be simpler, more carefree ones.

But if anyone had asked if this was the cause of Amelia's euphoric state, she would have denied it. None of her emotions had anything to do with docking at Trill. In reality, her reason was entirely simpler.

"Scotty to Takashi, come in please," came a thickly Scottish voice over her communicator.

With an energetic tap to the emblem on her chest, she greeted cheerily, "Takashi here, Scotty."

"Would you mind bringing me the upgrades for the core computer system, lass?"

"Not a problem at all, Mr. Scott! Be there in a sec."

Slipping a lanyard threaded through two thin cards over her head, she marched smartly into the corridor where she collided instantly with Skylar.

"Oh, hey!" Amelia beamed, holding Skylar out at arm's length. Skylar was rigid in her grip, and her attempt at a return smile seemed a little strained.

"Where are you going?" Skylar inquired, very businesslike.

Letting her arms drop to her sides, Amelia replied, "Scotty needs some codes for an update. Want to walk with me?" She noticed that Skylar was still in her basic red tunic and uniform pants. She also noticed a faint discoloring on Skylar's neck that seemed to be hinting itself through … concealer?

Skylar shook her head. "I actually need a simulation upgrade for today's fitness course."

"You're not running it?"

Skylar shook her head.

"Are you not feeling well? You're still in your reds."

"I'm fine," Skylar replied testily. "I just need the simulation upgrade when you're done."

The pep in Amelia's tone faltered slightly. "Okay …"

"Thanks," Skylar muttered as she began to turn.

"Sky?"

Skylar looked back over her shoulder.

Amelia offered her a small smile. "If you need to talk …"

"I'm fine, Amelia," Skylar snapped. "Leave it alone." She promptly headed back down the corridor toward the general tactical wing.

Amelia shook her head and continued toward Scotty's wing. A few minutes later, after passing crewmen who all looked frazzled and ready to explode, she found Scotty's lower half poking out from under a computer console whose top was beginning to shoot off sparks. His PADD was resting on top of his stomach, rising and falling with every twitch of abdominal movement.

"Damn piece of digital sh –"

"Mr. Scott?" Amelia called sweetly, bending over him.

Scotty immediately sat up, bringing his head into painful contact with the underside of the console. "Gah!" he groaned, extracting himself from the guts of the malfunctioning equipment. "Amelia," he said, squinting in pain as he rubbed at his forehead. She crouched next to him, offering a sympathetic shoulder squeeze. "Aren't you a sight for an injured head."

"Should I escort you to Sick Bay?"

"Is that the reason you're so peppy today?" Scotty asked as got to his feet. Amelia rose with him, prepared to offer support.

"Excuse me?" she asked with a laugh. Deeming him capable of supporting himself, she took a step back and pulled off the lanyard.

"Thanks," Scotty remarked tersely, taking the upgrades from her as he led them over to the core system computer. Leaning over the mainframe and still appearing in pain with a scrunched nose and squinted, watery eyes, he continued with more interest, "Yeah, don't think I don't hear the gossip, especially when it pertains to friends."

Amelia placed her hands on her hips, pouting. "Well, I was going to talk to Skylar about it –"

"Good luck, she's in a right foul state today," Scotty interrupted, slipping the upgrade cards into the waiting slots and dancing his fingers over the screen-board to an accompanying symphony of beeps and pings.

"Do you have a moment, then? I need to tell somebody!"

A smile played on Scotty's lips as the core system computer made a contented purring sound and he stood upright, his fingers leaving the screen-board. "Shall we step into my office?"

Amelia grabbed him by the hand and towed him into his own office, instantly shutting the door behind them. "Okay, you can't say _anything_, especially not to Hikaru because I haven't seen him yet, _but_ …"

Scotty beamed expectantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'minlovewithLeonard!" came a rush of words so amorous that Amelia had to wrap her arms around Scotty and squeeze him tightly, unable to express her excitement in words.

Almost falling over, Scotty managed to regain his balance and return the embrace, chuckling in the process. "So it's official, then?"

Amelia radiantly smiled up at him. "I'm going to tell him tonight! He has this whole dinner planned out for tonight in his quarters – I think he's planning to say it to me, officially! I mean, unless he's going to –!"

"Going to –?" Scotty asked, slightly concerned about the heat in her eyes and the manic width of her grin.

Amelia clenched her teeth and squealed, "_Propose?_"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Scotty chuckled gently, holding her out at arm's length. "Lassie, you need to tone it down to warp factor two for just a kind minute." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and slowly led her to his chair.

"I'm sorry, Scotty, I'm sorry," she laughed. "I'm not usually like this. It's just that I know he's it. He's the one." She allowed Scotty to sit her down in his chair, while he sat in front of her on the edge of his desk. "Things have been going so well between us. I mean, we've had our little issues, but I really think that it's going to happen tonight."

"Saying the L word?"

"At least! I mean, it couldn't hurt to talk about a potential future together."

"It seems logical enough," Scotty said, maintaining a slow, even tone and holding her gaze intently. "But, being a man, and knowing what kind of man Leonard is, please don't get your heart broken if the whole marriage thing doesn't necessarily pop up on the radar tonight."

Amelia's shoulders slumped just the slightest bit, and she pursed her lips. "It's his divorce, isn't it?"

"I know that it's hindered him significantly," Scotty commiserated.

"We've been taking this extremely slow because of that. And other factors, of course," she said, staring at her intertwined fingers on the desktop. "I mean, he is older than me. He's afraid of settling down too soon, because of that and his divorce. But I think we've gotten past both of those factors," she said firmly, looking up at Scotty. "And honestly, I can't see myself with anyone else but him. I love him; I honest-to-God love him."

Scotty shrugged. "He did seem to be in an unusually decent mood this morning."

"We had a lovely evening last night." Amelia's cheeks colored becomingly.

Scotty smiled down at her. "You are the only thing keeping everyone on this ship from death by hypo."

"Scotty," said Amelia, placing her hand atop his where it rested on her shoulder. "Leonard and I have been together for almost a year now. I mean, he's surrounded by beautiful crewmates and he's never done anything to suggest that he doesn't want to be with me. I'm pretty sure he can feel it, too."

Under her smaller hand, Scotty gave her shoulder a squeeze. "From a male perspective, I'm pretty damn sure he loves you, too." He slid off the desk, and she levered herself out of his deep chair. "My advice may not be as sound as Sulu's, but I think it's safe to say that tonight is going to be a good night."

Amelia hugged him again, eyes regaining the euphoric shine they'd held the entire day.

"I'm also flattered to be the first to know," Scotty added, looking down at her hair.

"It's nice to get advice from something with a penis that isn't of the gay persuasion." Amelia stepped away and winked at him. "Not that I don't love my Hikaru. He is my best friend, after all."

"Any time." Scotty glanced at his watch. "Well, I've spent seven and a half minutes away from the core; I'd better get back before someone melts down a reactor or something."

"You don't trust your men alone?"

"I don't trust the fact that they're on a shore-leave high, and that's enough to intoxicate any being into utter stupidity," he said as he led Amelia out the door.

::::::

Nyota Uhura sat her tray down at the table where Amelia, Chekov, and Sulu sat.

"What's with the hushed whispers?" Nyota inquired, digging a spoon into her lunch.

Sulu turned to Nyota, beaming. "I think someone may say the L word tonight," he playfully replied, nudging a blushing Amelia.

"Eet vill be a glorious thing to hear Leonard say zat vord, no?" Chekov said.

Nyota put down her spoon and clasped Amelia's hand firmly. "Oh my gosh! How exciting! I always knew out of all of the couples on this ship that you two would be the first to, you know, get serious."

"Serious?" Chekov questioned. "Zey are already having sex."

Nyota rolled her eyes while Amelia shook her head. "I mean serious, like actually might get married before everyone else 'serious.'"

"Oh," Chekov replied. "Zat kind of serious." He shot a look at Sulu, who promptly grabbed his glass and took a drink.

Amelia looked at Nyota. "I am so happy – I could die."

"You're so lucky," Nyota told her with a smile as she picked up her spoon again. "He's such a handsome gentleman, you know? I've seen the way he holds open the door for you, how he pulls out your chair. Who the hell else does that around here?"

Amelia shrugged slightly. "I've seen Kirk do that for you."

Sulu nearly choked on a bite of his own food.

Nyota laughed sarcastically. "Don't even get me started on that man. He tried to come into my room last night to fool around, then tried to take it back and leave. I threw his ass out so fast I don't even think warp 10 could have caught up with him."

"Did he really?" Sulu inquired.

"Vhat has been up vith him lately?" Chekov asked all around. "Him and Mister Spock?"

Nyota shrugged. "I don't know what Kirk's issue is. He wants to talk about his moods and then just closes up like that," she said with a snap of her fingers. "His method of talking about his emotions is using his dick, and I don't want to do that anymore. I need a consistent man who doesn't flirt with everyone that has a pair of tits."

"Zat one alien we encountered on LaDarion VI only had one teet."

Nyota narrowed her eyes at Chekov, who smiled innocently back at her.

"Maybe it's time to branch away from guys like Kirk, Nyota," Sulu suggested. "I don't know if he even knows what he wants. Maybe it would be better for you both – emotionally – if you both just keep it casual."

"I agree," Amelia said honestly. "I mean, it's one thing to just mess around with no strings attached – well, for some. But I know personally, sex is something that binds you even if you never considered romantic feelings for that person. It will stick with you, maybe even forever. I can honestly say, I've never actually had sex … I've made love. With Leonard. Because I love him. I think that people who have sex just to have sex become so emotionally damaged because they lose a piece of themselves every single time they give that part of themselves away. And maybe Jim is beginning to feel that loss now."

There was a brief silence as everyone looked at Amelia. Finally, Hikaru said, "You are such a sap."

Amelia smacked him on the arm as the others laughed. "I'm not trying to be a sap, and I'm not making judgments about anyone else's personal decisions. I'm just trying to tell you how I see it."

Nyota sighed. "I suppose it makes sense."

"I just think you should analyze how you really feel about Jim – even if you think you don't have any attachment to him – before you decide to get physical with him again."

"If that ever happens," Nyota retorted, glaring at her lunch as if it too had insulted her.

"You must heve some feelings for him," Chekov remarked. "It has you theenking."

"Wow, I didn't realize how emotional we were going to get," Nyota said, grabbing her water glass. "I would have ordered something alcoholic."

Twirling her spoon around in her food, Amelia looked around the table. "Hey, have any of you seen Skylar today?"

Nyota's eyes widened. "OhmyGod!" she said leaning in, everyone else doing the same as her voice became hushed. "Did you see the _enormous_ hickey she's trying to cover up?"

"That was a hickey?" Amelia asked, eyes widening. "It looks like someone punched her in the neck."

Nyota shook her head, smirking. "It has to be a hickey."

"Holy shit, and I thought human-given hickeys were tacky," Sulu said. "Boy, does that Vulcan have a pair of lips."

"Intense sucking action, indeed," Chekov added. "It's amazing that ze underlying infrastructure of her neck is still in place." He and Sulu wiggled eyebrows at each other.

"I don't know, guys," Amelia said, sitting upright again. "It looked too … painful to be a hickey."

"Try getting one from James T. Kirk and maybe you'll understand."

Sulu eyed Nyota. "I've never seen you with a hickey."

Nonchalantly, Nyota replied, "It wasn't on my neck," and she took another bite.

Sulu nodded, impressed.

"Is it really bugging you, Ems?" Chekov inquired.

Amelia looked up from her plate. "I don't know. I ran into her today and she was really pissy. I don't know if what happened to her neck correlates with her mood, but …"

"She hasn't been up on the bridge at all so far," Sulu commented.

"And Spock seems more and more lost every day," Nyota added.

"How so?" Amelia asked.

"He's just been super out of it," Nyota replied.

"He totally snapped at me today," Sulu added.

Nyota, nodding, continued, "He did, and about something completely trivial. Lately, Jim has had to ask him questions twice. He's been glued to that scanner like an infant on a boob, and his knuckles … he grips things so tight his knuckles go green." Nyota shook her head. "I haven't the slightest idea what is up with him, or her, or anyone for that matter. Right now, Ams, you're the only one with a sane relationship." Chekov cleared his throat, and Sulu raised an imperious eyebrow at her. "Oh, well, and you two are pretty sane, I suppose."

"Thanks," they said in monotonous unison.

"I tried to confront Skylar about it, but she totally rejected me," Amelia admitted.

Nyota gave her a smirk. "I wouldn't doubt that there are issues between them. I mean, look at them; they are exact opposites. Whoever penned the words 'opposites attract' obviously never visited the cosmos."

Sulu turned toward Amelia. "On a lighter topic, guess what I found wedged between the pages of an old textbook in my room last night."

Amelia watched him curiously as he reached into his back pocket. Chekov caught a glimpse of the small square piece of what appeared to be paper, and he beamed and nodded. "Oh, yes!"

Sulu handed it over to Amelia, and as soon as the thick, smooth object touched her fingertips, a smile spread across her face. "A photo!" she exclaimed, turning it over. At the sight of the image, her lips parted, though no words came out.

"An actual photo," Nyota remarked, impressed. She glanced at Sulu. "Yours?"

"A pastime I had in high school. I had stumbled upon my great-grandfather's old camera and its software. It's hard finding a place that will actually print anything nowadays, but back then I was able to do some minor printing. Mostly I just kept images on a pic-deck."

"What is it of?" Nyota asked Amelia, who was still immersed in what she was staring at. Her eyes were glued to the photograph, though her gaze was a million miles away.

Amelia's thumb brushed over the young, thin female, whose back was to the photographer. She was sporting a royal-blue ballet outfit, complete with matching slippers, all trimmed in black. Her black hair was pulled up into a high bun on her head. Faint freckles lined the girl's cheekbones. Her jaw line was sharp, and her posture was flawless. One of her arms was curved out to the side, the other delicately arched high over her head. She stood high on pointed toes, feet crossed at the ankles.

Coming back to the present at Nyota's repeated inquiry, Amelia turned the photograph around to show it to her. Nyota carefully took it from her. "This is you?" Nyota asked, looking up at Amelia as if to compare what features she could with the angle given.

Amelia nodded. "Yes."

"Prima ballerina," Sulu chuckled.

"Hardly," Amelia laughed.

"She'll never admit it, but she was the best," Sulu told Nyota. "I absolutely loved photographing her at her recitals. My family and I always went. She was the most graceful ballerina in the company."

Nyota handed the photograph back to Amelia. "It's absolutely gorgeous. You look beautiful."

"Thank you," Amelia replied, taking back the photograph. "Ballet was so important to me," she explained, gazing down at the picture again. "It took me away from all of the pressure my parents placed upon me. When I danced, all of my irritation, my anger, my sadness – all of me would bleed out. My dancing was the one place I could forget about everything and just be me. I never danced for anyone but myself."

"She was the most vibrantly aggressive ballerina onstage," Sulu added. "Sometimes I didn't know if it was her dancing at all."

"I suppose we all have our inner demons." Amelia smiled at him as Nyota handed the picture back.

Sulu proffered it to Amelia. "By all means, Ams, have a piece of your glory days back."

"No, I don't need it. I'm living out these glory days now. You keep it."

"Alright," Sulu said, glancing at it again before tucking the photograph back into his pocket. "It is one of my favorites."

"Mine, too," Chekov remarked. "You vould have made an excellent dancer in ze Russian ballet, Ems."

Amelia giggled appreciatively. "Thanks, Chekov."

"I'm sure Leonard appreciates your flexibility," Nyota teased, gathering her tray together.

"That's never been brought up," Amelia admitted. "Are you back on duty?"

Nyota stood. "Yeah, I'm heading that way. I'll keep you posted on any new events, but for now, focus on the whole L word adventure. See you all later."

Nyota nodded to them all and walked away.

:::::

Skylar hunched over the sink, fingers clutching the cool steel. Her chest heaved under her sports bra, and sweat dotted her body under her black standard PT pants. Forcing her head up, the sight of the bruising along her neck staring back at her out of the mirror made her nails dig painfully into the steel ridges of the sink.

Her teeth gritted. Everything was off. She did not understand why, but she could feel it. She had watched her crewmen train all evening, and had wanted desperately to jump in and join the action; the thought of jabbing something caressed something inside her like water on a thirsty tongue. But she couldn't. Somehow, she felt weak. The bruise told her this. It was a public embarrassment, and a constant reminder. She could not let anyone see what had become of her.

But even watching the blood, sweat and vigorous activity of the tactical course at a distance, Skylar paced like a hungry dog desperate for the parade of free-range meat dangling itself before her cage. She knew that she had caused a bit of consternation by instructing her squad from a distance; her men were not stupid by any means. In fact, she interpreted their sideways glances and raised eyebrows as innocent curiosity. Was it a health issue? Had she injured herself? The majority were probably relieved at a day without a sucker punch to the abs or the face, but none of them slacked in their performances. None of them went down without giving it their all.

Skylar watched as man after man of her crew was dismissed to Sick Bay, though not by their choice. She had seen them work hard – but this hard? The desire to be in on it was unbearable. She wondered if it was possible that these men thought her to be a bigger threat off-course; perhaps she was evaluating them? The thought had made her laugh inwardly. It was amusing, not to mention flattering and empowering, to know that she could also be a mental threat. But even that sop to her ego would not sate the craving to spar. It was nothing like she'd ever felt before.

Dark eyes locked on the bruise staining her reflection's throat, Skylar's mind drifted back toward Spock. She had not spoken to him all day, and he had not tried to contact her. He was either feeling guilty (though he'd probably never admit it) and was choosing to give her space, or he was … he was being weird, as he had been for the past few days.

Unwillingly, Skylar thought about last night. She had tried not to let her mind wander back into that territory, but the bruise was a glaring signpost pointing her mind in the wrong direction. What had happened to her? More importantly, what had happened to Spock? She knew perfectly well what kind of lover he was; his Vulcan attributes made him that much more powerful and aggressive in any sexual encounter. His emotions, pent up all of the time, were allowed to peek out at her through a tiny window. It was scary and romantic, all at the same time. Making love to Spock was anything but ordinary. He was rough … but it was a kind of rough that Skylar enjoyed. It was a rough that Skylar could handle … except for last night.

There had always been a niggling urge within her to say something to Spock along the lines of, "Just let go." Skylar couldn't help but want to open Pandora's Box. Diving headfirst into situations had gotten her through growing up among rough crowds. It had saved her in painful situations … most of the time. Skylar had always found a way to overcome an obstacle, regardless of how much she had to sacrifice or break the rules. But somehow she'd met her match in Spock. Last night's encounter with him proved that tenfold.

Skylar had itched to see his full potential, but the Box's contents had proved considerably scarier than she had imagined. Perhaps it was because Spock had always maintained a modicum of control. He was always present. Last night, Skylar had no idea who she'd slept with. Or made love to. Or who had raped her. Whoever this being was, and whatever it was that he'd done to her, she knew that it wasn't Spock. And for the first time in a long time, Skylar was genuinely frightened. The embarrassment of the bruising had come and gone; the painful jab to her pride would heal. But Skylar was uncertain of everything else. What was happening to Spock? And when she discovered that, what would happen to her?

As tears leaked from her eyes, Skylar's fist smashed into the mirror. Her mouth fell open in confusion – she'd had no control over the movement. An overwhelming wave of pain swirled out from her knuckles and up her arm as shards of glass clattered gently to the floor, each glinting mockingly as it reflected fractured images of her weakness. Blood began to ooze from the wound with each throb of her heart, and she seized her injured fist in her other hand as she clutched it to her stomach, sinking slowly to the floor.

:::::

When Nyota Uhura walked onto the bridge, it was apparent that something was not right. The relief for Sulu and Chekov sat rigid in their seats while Jim, facing away from her, sat tapping his fingers expectantly on the arm of his chair, his attention focused on Spock. For once, Spock was not riveted by his scanner; he now stood just as rigid, his arms crossed over his chest as he focused on the main viewing screen. Nyota shot a quick, covert glance at the screen, noting nothing but stars, before grabbing the ear piece off of her console and taking a seat. Within a moment of her silver-manicured finger touching the monitor screen to pull up her log-in chart, Nyota stiffened at a very firm demand from the Vulcan commander.

"You have yet to give me any logical elucidation as to why it would be inappropriate for the ship to dock sooner than scheduled."

Nyota turned stealthily in her chair just as Jim forcefully slapped a hand onto the armrest. "Commander, as I've explained to you, the orders from Starfleet specifically stated that we dock at 1500 hours. That was the time designated by the Trill ambassador. I am following orders."

"But how negative would the repercussions be for a captain without a sense of exquisite punctuality?" Spock questioned, maintaining an even tone. Nyota watched his hands behind his back: one was tightly circling the wrist of the other. "And honestly, Jim, by your standards, when have you ever thoroughly abided by the rules given to you?"

"When have you ever been hell-bent on bending them?" Jim returned with force. "Spock, showing up early for this meeting could look horribly suspicious. My ship is on the line here. We are supposed to be setting a good example for the Federation."

"And by your beliefs, is not absolute punctuality a correlation of what would be deemed a good example?"

Jim shot to his feet, hands balled into fists at his sides. "Commander, I'd like to have a word with you. In private. Now." His tone was completely beyond his years. Nyota nearly had to double-take to make certain it was still James T. Kirk doing the speaking.

For a suspended moment, Spock did not move. It seemed as if everything on the bridge – the personnel, the beeps and other various noises – had all ceased existing for a second. All attention was focused on the center of the bridge, where both Jim and Spock stood in their own dramatic spotlights.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to see how very obviously upset Jim was. But despite the Vulcan's facade of emotionlessness, Nyota knew enough to read his tone and his posture; Spock was very much upset as well. As everyone, including the Enterprise itself, seemed to be holding their breaths, Spock spun on his heel and headed toward the turbo lift, with Jim close behind. Without a visual indication to anyone in particular, Jim barked over his shoulder, "Back to stations as usual, people," and the bridge sprang back to life with a jolt.


	5. Duties

**A/N: A very special and inappropiately warm thank you to the lovely Tridacnagigas (that's her name, btdubs; maybe you should check her work out *hint hint*)**

**V. Duties.**

Leonard McCoy was not pleased. Grumbling to himself, he grabbed his PADD off of the counter and met the intense gaze of Skylar Pike, who was still holding her injured fist out to him. She flinched away from his eyes, suddenly becoming fascinated by the terrific blandness of his office door. A Starfleet Academy-issued sweatshirt - two sizes too big - draped her like a shroud, as her other fist bunched up the sagging neckline.

Leonard noted the low side ponytail she was sporting with clinical interest; her long, wavy black locks tumbled over her shoulder and down her side, locked in behind the arm that was gripping her neckline, as if she was cold. It was rare to see Skylar without her hair up in its usual high ponytail, but this minor adjustment in her wardrobe confirmed the rumors: Skylar had not been on active duty today. Leonard, who was used to forcing her on bed rest after lengthy arguments as to why she could not get back to sparring with a broken rib or sprained ankle, would have never imagined that Skylar would send _herself_ to Sick Bay. With only an injured hand, and completely out of uniform standards, no less. She did not look sick; in fact, the hand injury was the only thing he could diagnose as being an ailment, and blood had never slowed her down before. Why would Skylar walk into Sick Bay looking less than professional? This display was considerably out of character for her.

Pursing his lips, Leonard raised a curiously irritated eyebrow. "How'd you manage that?" He indicated to her bloody hand with his stubbled chin. "I heard you were down and out today."

Skylar rolled her eyes. "Just fix it, Bones," she replied curtly, still avoiding his stare.

Tucking the PADD under his arm, Leonard took a step forward and ruthlessly gripped her slender fingers, Skylar letting out a yelp as he inspected the extent of the damage.

"Shit, Leonard, are you trying to pull my fingers off?" Skylar groaned, her other hand falling from her sweatshirt and balling into a fist at her side as he twisted the appendages. "I do shoot with that hand, ya know."

"I don't have gloves on, I don't want any of the Vulcan diseases you've been exposed to," Leonard stated matter-of-factly, releasing her hand. He retrieved his PADD and began to punch in a few quick notes.

Skylar's free hand instantly rose back up towards her neck. Exhaling sharply, she said, "I broke a mirror, okay?"

Leonard eyed her skeptically. "It looks to me more like you punched a mirror, am I right?"

"Maybe," Skylar returned in a pout. "I think we're all entitled every so often."

Leonard tossed the PADD onto the counter next to him and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, why the hell wasn't I given the memo on that little fact?" he inquired sarcastically.

"Because Jim would go broke trying to replace all the mirrors you'd break," Skylar retorted. "Can't you just dip my hand in a vat of Neosporin and give me a Band-Aid so I can go? Be off your hands?"

"What the hell do you think this is, the Dark Ages?" He scowled at the bloody mess that was her hand as if it had insulted him personally. "And if you really wanted to be off of my hands, you'd stop injuring yourself all the damn time," Leonard scolded her. "How the hell is Jim supposed to explain a yeoman with an injury like this to the Trill Ambassador?"

Skylar simply shrugged. "I had a disagreement with my PADD?" she suggested acidly.

Leonard shook his head and sighed. "You won't be content until you've broken every bone in your body. Either that, or you just love visiting me."

"Let's stick to the latter for the sake of our friendship," Skylar replied and twitched her injured hand at him. "Hey, doctor, this isn't going to fix itself."

Leonard raised an eyebrow as he glanced down at her hand again. "Actually, it is. In fact, the blood that has already begun to crust is an indication that the injury isn't fresh. You probably debated with yourself about bugging me in Sick Bay for at least an hour."

"You're a genius."

"No, I'm a doctor."

"Not a very good one. I'm still bleeding."

Grimacing, Leonard seized a hypo off of the counter and motioned her over with a jerk of his head while he inspected its liquid contents. "This will numb the hand while I dig out any embedded glass shards," he explained, taking her fingers again, flipping her hand over, and sticking the hypo into her bloody palm.

Skylar jerked slightlyand gritted her teeth, but the pain came as no surprise. As president of the Sick Bay Frequent Flyer's Club, the only real shock of being hypo-ed was the fact that she still jerked, albeit involuntarily, when its contents were inserted.

"Now," Leonard continued as he tossed the used hypo in a disposal unit, "I'm going to grab a pair of gloves and my magnifier, and we will begin the mini surgery process I'm sure you are fondly familiar with."

Skylar's lips curved into a cocky smile as he moved around her to reach his tool cabinet. "Should I take a seat?"

Leonard glanced back over his shoulder at her. "Whatever makes you …" His sentence faltered and his hands ceased their motion as he focused on the back of Skylar's neck.

At his sudden silence, Skylar turned back to look at him. "What's wrong?" she questioned innocently.

Leonard spun smartly away from the cabinet, marched back to her, and reached out for her hair. Skylar shrugged away from him, uninjured hand rising to gather the neckline once more, but he caught it in his bluff grip and yanked it away.

"What are you doing?" Skylar asked angrily, as Leonard wrapped his other hand in her hair to bare what he'd seen from across the room.

"Did you punch a mirror because you lost a fight?"

Arranging her chin to hide the bruise, Skylar demanded, "Let go, Bones!" but Leonard ignored her protests. His eyes widened as he got an unobstructed view of the purpled skin that started behind her ear and painted a mottled path leading down the curve of her neck and out toward her shoulder just above her left collar bone.

Using his grip on her uninjured hand to control her, he pressed her back from him a few inches to get a little perspective on his investigation. He internally noted a number of neatly patterned blotches within the bruising, what could only be teeth marks. There were a few areas around the marks where the top layer of skin had been broken, but there wasn't any sign of bleeding.

Skylar tried her strength against his grip again. "Okay, okay, so you've seen it," she spat, angling her body so that the bruise was no longer in his direct sightline.

Leonard released his grip on her hair, but retained her hand and did not move away. He locked her gaze with his, noting the tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. "That is some very deep bruising, Skylar," he said quietly, his tone dark. "You couldn't get that from sparring without a broken neck or clavicle with it."

Skylar watched him closely, his eyes the windows into his brain as she saw the wheels turning in a calculative storm of hypotheses and definitive conclusions. It had been a long while since Skylar had witnessed anything like that look, but as the veil of classic Leonard McCoy idiosyncrasy slipped away and left a very blatantly firm, paternal stare, Skylar could not help but feel guilty.

She felt a single tear slip down her cheek. This look had always been met with loud yelling and cursing, and then dodging a swing from her father, throwing a few of her own back, and then running off to stay elsewhere for a few days until the storm passed and it was back to living in two separate worlds under the same roof. But this was Leonard; and despite his outward curmudgeonly disposition, he was an absolute gentleman and a loyal friend. Guilt clogged her throat, even though she was at fault for nothing. This guilt was laced with fear, and though she swallowed convulsively, she could not dislodge it. She knew where Leonard was going to take this conversation and she knew she was not going to like it at all.

"It's not what you think," Skylar managed, her voice barely more than a strained whisper.

Leonard glanced at their surroundings. Around the corner was his fully-equipped Sick Bay, where he could hear the clacking of the nurse's and doctor's boots meeting the floor with rapid excitement as the vital-sign monitors trilled their melodies amongst an unintelligible din of medical terms, diagnoses and complaints. Making a decision, Leonard gruffly twitched his head toward the door into the privacy of his office. Skylar shrugged and started off with an air of annoyed defeat. Glancing down at the PADD on the counter, Leonard hesitated for a second longer before grabbing it and following Skylar into his office.

:::::

Spock marched into the empty conference room and turned sharply on his heel to face Jim as the doors closed tightly behind the captain with a hush of air. They stood eye to eye for a second, and then Jim walked past him and took a seat on the edge of the conference table.

"Ok, Spock, spill it." He crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Spock expectantly.

Spock raised an eyebrow curiously and clasped his hands behind his back. "Captain?"

"_Explain_," Jim rephrased impatiently. "What the hell is up with you?"

Spock's lips became a straight line across his face.

"You're not yourself lately," Jim continued at the Vulcan's silence. "You have continually instigated petty bickering amongst my helmsmen and other various bridge crew personnel; I have had to ask you more than once for scanner readouts, and today you have questioned our direct orders from Starfleet about the designated arrival time to Trill."

Spock considered this with a tilt of his head. "I deny none of these allegations against me, Captain."

"Spock, this behavior is completely incongruent with how my First Officer normally acts. I need your cooperation more than ever in this matter. I'm carrying the weight of the entire Federation on my shoulders and you're. Fucking. Around." Jim's tone became almost a hiss by the end of his sentence and he glared harshly up at the Vulcan, with his hands gripping the edge of the table.

"If your final statement was intended as a colorful metaphor, its use is unwelcome," Spock replied evenly, though his eyes were dark as ever as they locked onto Jim.

Jim sighed in resignation, his sudden fury leaving him as he was reminded to whom he was actually speaking. He rubbed his face with callused hands, and then proceeded to run his fingers through his short, sandy-brown hair before returning his gaze to Spock. "I'm sorry, Spock. I just need to understand what is going on with you before I beam down onto that planet. I need to know that you are going to back me up here; like I said, nothing can go wrong. _Nothing_. This Senator Dorraine is not exactly thrilled to have Federation presence around after the last screw-up with that other crew. If I lose him, we lose our stake on Trillus Prime and my reputation goes to shit at Warp 10."

Spock remained silent for a moment, obviously digesting what had been said. Finally, he crossed his arms over his chest and stated matter-of-factly, "To ensure absolute fortification of this mission and the parties involved, I urgently request that I be removed from the away team. I can assure you that my presence will only cause a negative and fruitless distraction."

Jim's mouth fell open as disbelief gripped him. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"It is not in my nature to be comedic."

"You have to be joking, Spock, _I need you_!" Jim jumped to his feet, incensed. His fists balled at his sides. "You cannot do this, not now! Why the hell should I let you off? Are you sick?" he demanded. "Speak, dammit! As your Captain, I _order_ you to explain why you are abandoning your duties as First Officer."

"As I stated prior to your sudden emotional outburst, I am forfeiting my duties for the safety of the away team and the parties involved with this diplomatic mission, not to mention the outcome of the mission itself."

"And _why_ would anyone's safety be at risk with you _present_?" Jim seethed. "For God's sake, Spock, you can manhandle anyone! Is there some kind of Vulcan-Trill prejudice I am unaware of that is preventing you from completing this task?"

"No," Spock replied simply. "But it is a matter that I do not wish to discuss with you."

"And why the hell not? What happened to us being friends?"

"This matter does not concern camaraderie. It is a complex issue that is not casually discussed between Vulcans, let alone with Humans."

Jim's anger was replaced by befuddlement. He clenched and unclenched his fists, unsure whether to deck Spock in the face for being so enigmatic or to offer concern for the ailment that was clearly gripping his friend. Spock's fingers were twitching against the pretzel shape of his arms over his chest, a considerably odd habit he'd noticed Spock had recently developed. _Calm down, Jim_, he told himself inwardly. _This is Spock we're dealing with; it's got to be more than silly humanistic bullshit_. Taking a deep calming breath, Jim gestured to a chair at the conference table. "Take a seat, man."

"I'd prefer to stand," Spock replied tersely.

Jim shrugged amiably. "Suit yourself," he said, taking the seat he'd offered to Spock.

Placing his elbows on his thighs and his chin on intertwined knuckles, Jim spoke to the floor. "You are the most qualified diplomat on this team. You are logical and just, and you happen to be one of my best friends. I honestly do not want my team to beam down without you because I'm afraid something will go horribly wrong." He looked up at Spock intensely. "Enlighten me as to why you cannot. Please. As a friend and in total confidence, I want to understand _why_." When Spock said nothing, Jim continued, pleadingly, "I told you yesterday that I was horny; I think we're beyond professional boundaries here, now, don't you think? There's nothing you can say to me that will make me judge you or lose respect for you." He pressed his hands to his chest. "I'm James T. Kirk – I've seen, done, and seduced it all in some way, shape, or form. There's no reason to be embarrassed."

Had Spock been completely human, he would have found this moment to be appropriate for a long, exasperated sigh. His mother would have encouraged such an action. However, his father's side won. He dropped his hands to his sides, standing tall and composed.

His dark eyes hypnotized the captain, and the line of lips parted at last. "I trust you, Jim," he started quietly. "There is something dangerous happening within me. And that danger will go beyond me, Jim, and it will destroy this mission."

Jim stared up at him, flabbergasted. These were not the words he was expecting to hear out of Spock's mouth. "What are you talking about? You would never hurt anyone."

"I already have." Spock's gaze flinched away. "And it will not stop until …"

"Until what?"

Spock's eyes returned to Jim's. "Until I reach Vulcan. Or another alternative is formulated."

Jim nodded slowly. "That's why you wanted to land early … so we could leave earlier – and go to Vulcan?"

"Not entirely," Spock replied. "I have not yet gained control over this; I merely estimated incorrectly my ability to self-inhibit a certain biological occurrence, and that perhaps if we arrived on Trill more expediently, I would be able to complete the mission and return to the ship in time to remedy my situation. Returning to Vulcan would be ideal; however, in my present state it would be illogical to attempt to fathom a course of action that would aid the _Enterprise_ in even coming remotely close to arriving in time."

"In time for what, Spock? You're still being cryptic."

"Jim, I am undergoing what is known amongst my people as the _pon farr._" The Vulcan's cheeks took on a hint of green. "It is a neurochemical imbalance that produces in Vulcans a state of frenzied madness at a cycle of every seven years. _Pon farr_ is a considerably private matter; it is taboo to even speak of it amongst peers, Vulcan or other."

Jim took this in. Gently, he asked, "What causes it, exactly?"

"It is not a question of causation; it is a matter of _why_ it occurs. It is not an illness."

"So, _why_ does it occur then?"

Spock hesitated, maintaining his even gaze at Jim though his brow furrowed ever so slightly and his hands balled into fists at his sides. "As Vulcans, we are called to a time of mating. That is what the _pon farr_ is, Jim."

"A time of-" Jim's lips curved as a light went on for him. "Wait a second, wait a second," he said, holding up a hand to forestall interruption. "You're telling me that you have to have sex every seven years – that's it's _required_?"

"Biologically, yes," Spock answered.

Jim's mouth twitched, then twitched again. "That's what you're getting all pissy about; you're horny too!"

"I do not believe that term is appropriate in this situation, Jim."

"You sure get angry when you're sexually frustrated." Jim's eyes lit up. "Spock, isn't all of this a simple fix? You have a girlfriend – why don't you two just 'mate' tonight. I'm sure you'll feel better by tomorrow."

Spock shook his head, derailing his captain's momentum.

Jim stared at him, confused. "Are you two fighting or something? I noticed you didn't speak to each other today."

"I …" Spock trailed off, something that seemed to surprise him as his eyes darted down to the floor. He composed himself again and continued, confidently. "Mating with Skylar will not suffice; she will need to be present and in excellent health for your assignment on Trill."

"Uh, Spock, as a representative for the Human species, sex always us feel better; trust me, if I'd had any recently, I'd be a much happier captain right about now."

"This has nothing to do with 'being happy,'" Spock explained firmly. "For a Vulcan, this particular episode of copulation is the discharge of the accumulation of all repressed emotions in one's daily existence. Also, Vulcans are superior in strength compared to Humans. Combine both of these factors, and one can only imagine how physically and mentally detrimental such an occurrence would be to the other party involved." Spock's voice trailed off as his gaze focused on something distant that Jim could not see.

Jim stood slowly, his eyes glued to his First Officer. Spock's demeanor had suddenly changed; his posture did not have its usual ramrod-straightness, nor were the gears behind his eyes engaging and spinning logically away like the Vulcan encyclopedia that he typically was. Jim could tell that a bout of despair had overcome Spock by the way his eyes glimmered tearlessly, and his lips had again become a tight line across his face. "You mentioned before that you'd already hurt someone," said Jim gently. "Did you mean Skylar?"

Spock's dark eyes blinked and refocused below his sharply angled brows. "Yes," he replied. "I have come to the conclusion that Skylar cannot be my mate during this _pon farr_. She is too valuable for this mission to Trill. You need her, Jim, and I cannot guarantee her safety when the madness takes me."

Jim crossed his arms over his chest. "We need to talk to McCoy," he stated suddenly.

"I assure you, bringing the doctor into this will not be productive, considering that this is strictly a Vulcan matter," Spock remarked curtly. "It was inappropriate to convey anything at all with regards to the _pon farr_. I have brought shame on myself."

"Hardly so, Spock," Jim told him. "This isn't your fault."

"I respectfully disagree, Captain. Biologically, it is not. But if the mission fails due to my condition, it would, logically, be my fault. I will not have Skylar injured further on my behalf."

Jim's brows drew together anxiously. "How injured is she? Is she Sick-Bay-injured?"

"I do not believe so."

"Skylar wouldn't report in anyway," Jim said, reaching for his communicator and pulling it up to his lips. "Captain Kirk to Bones, come in please."

After a moment, Leonard's voice came over the communicator. "Is this important, Jim? I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"Exceedingly so. I need you to pull Lt. Pike. Spock and I will meet you in Sick Bay immediately." There was a short pause, but the dead air on the frequency between communicators remained open. "Bones, do you copy?"

"Yes, Jim. But I don't need to pull Lt. Pike – she's already here."

Jim's eyes wearily traveled back to his First Officer. "Kirk out," he said and tapped his communicator off. "Spock, if you won't mate with Skylar, maybe Bones will have a remedy."

"The probability that Dr. McCoy could offer anything beyond a magnitude of sardonicisms equates to the likelihood of farm-raised livestock spontaneously becoming airborne."

Jim shook his head in frustration. "Come on, Spock, there has to be a way. You're the Vulcan, tell us what you need." Jim suddenly took hold of Spock around the wrist. "Or better yet, tell McCoy. Come on, Spock – let's fix this."

:::::

Spock had kept right on Jim's heels as the captain maintained his impetuous pace all the way to Sick Bay. He was relieved that Jim led; his fingers would not unlock from the fierce fists they had formed and Spock was grinding his teeth again, two things he did not wish for the captain to observe. These habits – an uncustomary occurrence for a Vulcan to develop – were becoming a reminder of the tender mercies he would eventually have to succumb to.

The tics were also an obvious indication to everyone else how unable he would be to perform his duties from here on out. He was becoming more and more incapable of following logic's organized paths. Suddenly, his heart's desires were singing louder than ever before, a din so rampant that his brain could hear nothing else … and instead whispered to his body to respond irrationally.

Spock wanted more than anything to strike out at Jim for not listening to him. His mind was beginning to wrestle with the idea of subduing his captain right here in the ship's lengthy, bustling corridors. An excited feeling gripped his insides at the thought of taking the captain out right in front of his faithful crew – for an arm to swing in sweet release and crash itself into the side of his neck. With a mighty force, it would be a gamble to bet on Jim's neck _not_ breaking instantly. Spock could easily break it; it was so human, so fragile, so … fallible.

_You are moving into an irrevocably dangerous place at an alarming rate_, cried Spock's heart up his side to his brain. _No one will be safe until the _plak tow _is subdued._

His brain leered down at his heart in a very humanistic fashion foreign to the holistic Vulcan paradigm: _Spock – you _know_ the answer to this conundrum; it's sound, easily attainable and utterly simplistic. A resolution cannot possibly be achieved in any easier fashion__!_

The wise doors to Sick Bay hissed open to an active display of nurses, doctors and patients each with their own agendas. Jim did not wait to be acknowledged in the slightest. He rounded about to the right and entered the adjacent private medical practitioner's office, which connected to the chief medical officer's quarters and office – Leonard McCoy's personal domain. Jim spared hardly a glance at the used hypo on the counter as he passed through the PMP office; he strode to the door on the other side of the small room and pressed the release button on the door that led into Leonard's private office.

Leonard stood with his arms crossed over his chest and his PADD wedged under an arm. His disposition, as dark as it appeared, was not exactly as Jim would have described him on a usual day. Leonard looked up as they came in, giving Jim a nod, and then shifting his gaze over Jim's shoulder to Spock as they entered the smaller room. Skylar, who was seated before his medical station with her head turned away from them, flinched as the door hissed open and turned her head only slightly to see whose presence the boot heels against the floor announced.

Spock remained on the edge of the room, allowing the door room to close behind him but not stepping any farther forward. He eyed the sharp curve of Skylar's jaw, burning with the knowledge that on the opposite side of her head, a dark reminder lay skin-deep within her flesh.

A fiery curtain fell over Leonard's eyes as he tossed the PADD onto the counter next to Skylar. "_You_!" he bellowed with a blunt finger aimed at Spock's chest. "Why the hell did you do it?"

Bewildered, Jim threw his arms out defensively between them. "Bones, what the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded.

"That green blooded bastard – he did this!" growled Leonard, enraged.

"Did what?" Jim yelled back.

Leonard seized Skylar roughly by the elbow and alarmingly, Skylar allowed herself to be stood upright and turned as though on display. Her hair slid back over her shoulder with the motion of the turn, and the bruising came into view perfectly. Jim involuntarily gasped. Spock placed his arms behind his back, maintaining an inscrutable expression, though he did not look at the markings. Instead, he stared into Skylar's eyes.

Jim spun, eyes wide in shock and thoroughly incensed. "You _hurt_ her! You actually hurt her."

"I've already attempted to convey this to you, Captain. In my current state I am dangerous."

"How the hell could you do this?" Leonard growled, Skylar's elbow still secured by his big hand.

"_How_ is simple, Doctor: with my mouth. Why, is another matter entirely."

"_You arrogant sonofabitch_!" Leonard seethed. "Where I'm from, mercy doesn't exist for men like you!"

Jim held a hand out to Leonard to silence him. "_Calm down_, dammit, Bones – will you?" He looked back at Spock. "You've got a damned good explanation for this, right?"

"How is it possible that he's admitted this to you and you haven't thrown his ass in the Brig?" Leonard huffed.

"Let go of me!" Skylar's cry cut into their argument as she violently pulled away. Leonard and Jim both looked at her, but her stare was locked onto Spock. She took a couple of steps forward, Jim silently stepping aside even as Leonard instinctively reached for her. "Spock," she said quietly to the Vulcan. "What is happening to you?"

Spock stiffened as Skylar neared him, retreating so that his back pressed into the door. She halted at his reaction, confused. "The _pon farr_," he told her.

The room fell silent, and then Leonard lunged for his PADD and began tapping the screen at a furious pace.

"You are in danger if I remain close to you," Spock continued, still speaking only to her. "You will not be able to perform your duties to the captain on Trill. It is imperative that you and I remain separate in this time."

Skylar stared up at him in alarmed confusion. "Separate?" she repeated.

Suddenly Leonard spoke, his gruff voice agitated. "There's hardly anything in the Federation database about the _pon farr_ –"

"It is an exceptionally private matter, Doctor," Spock said to him firmly.

"There has only been one recorded case in which a Federation medical officer has had to deal with this issue, but they did not leave much in the way of documentation on the subject," Leonard continued as though no interruption had occurred. He looked at Jim. "I need to get him hooked into the system immediately for further analysis."

"There is nothing you can prescribe that will prevent what is happening to me. We cannot reach Vulcan; I've completed rigorous meditation periods on several occasions; and my attempt at subduing the _plak tow _in mating with Skylar proved inefficient, in all probability because I was holding back to the best of my abilities," Spock recounted. His eyes shimmered as though flooded with angst.

"Mate?" Skylar cried. "That was what you call 'mating' on Vulcan? That was practically rape!"

"'_Plak tow_'?" Leonard repeated, and began tapping on his PADD screen once more.

"Blood fever," Spock said with effort. "I have already conveyed a lot on the subject. Too much."

"Too much, my ass," Leonard spat. "If you're going to go around raping women on this ship, I'll be damned if I allow you to do it on my watch, whether I understand this _pon farr_ or not."

"This is a biological occurrence," Spock explained in defeat. "My body calls me to mate."

"You said you couldn't properly mate with Skylar because you held back," Jim mentioned, tapping a finger on his chin.

Spock returned his gaze to Skylar, who stood with her hand defensively covering the bruising on her neck. "Emotionally, more so. Physically, to the best of my strength." He directed his next comment to her specifically, coupling it with a step forward. "I did not mean to hurt you."

Skylar said nothing, but watched him.

Jim parted his lips to say something when suddenly the doors to the office hissed open and Amelia cheerily walked smack into Spock's back. He hurriedly rearranged himself as her eyes widened in surprise at the congregation.

"Oh, wow, I'm so sorry," she said ruefully. Her eyes traveled around the room as genuine concern settled over her expression. "Is everything okay?"

"Hardly," Leonard grunted. "Spock's having a Vulcan mating issue."

Jim whirled his head to glare at him. "Bones," he hissed.

"What?" Leonard countered hotly. "If Spock is going to be dangerous, especially to our female counterparts, I think Amelia should know."

"You're being a major dick about this," Jim chided.

"It does sound as if you're being a dick, Leonard," Amelia added apologetically. She looked at Spock, who had crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt at nonchalance, but was gripping his opposite elbows so tightly that his knuckles were turning green. "Are you okay, Commander?"

"This is a private matter, Lieutenant."

Amelia looked to Skylar and cocked her head as she noticed the placement of her hand. "That wasn't a hickey, was it?" she asked, more to herself, but everyone heard her.

"No," Skylar replied suddenly. "Not really." She dropped her hand to reveal the mark.

Amelia gasped. Her hand shot up to her chest. "Oh my gosh," she remarked as though she was out of breath. Her eyes went to Spock again. "He couldn't have done it on purpose. He loves her."

Spock did not meet Amelia's gaze. His teeth were grinding together behind his lips.

"I _need_ to hook him up, Jim," Leonard said firmly. "I need to see what is going on inside him so that I can tell you what we're dealing with."

"With all due respect, Leonard, you have been told what it is you are dealing with," said Spock aggressively. He continued to stare at the opposite wall. "Your wildly irate outbursts are what have been keeping you from understanding the situation."

"Enlighten me then, Spock," Leonard challenged. "I'm supposed to trust your _medical_ opinion and just let you wander dangerously around the ship?"

"He needs to mate, people," barked Jim over the squabble. "Plain and simple. He couldn't satisfy the _pon farr_ with Skylar because he understood her importance to our mission on Trill and my safety. As he's already stated, meditation isn't working and it is impossible for us to return to Vulcan for it to be handled there."

"What's your solution Jim?" Leonard inquired acerbically.

Jim eyed him. "You're not going to like it." He looked around the room. "None of you are going to like it, but it is apparent that the longer we fight about this like children, the more at risk we all become and the more we set ourselves up for failure tomorrow." Jim's gaze settled on Spock, who slowly met his stare. "Spock, you need to find another mate."

Skylar snapped her head around, eyes wide.

"You were correct in holding back; I do need Skylar on-planet. I will find you someone who won't be on the away team."

"Oh, that's just fucking perfect," Leonard chuckled sarcastically. "You're just going to pimp some helpless girl off on him?"

"It's a sacrifice she and I will have to make."

Skylar smacked her lips. "And I'm just supposed to be completely fine with this, huh, Captain?"

Jim eyed her. "Yes. For the sake of your companion and your mission. Both are top priority."

"I can see which way the scale's tipping," she retorted bitterly. "You can't be serious about this, Jim." Skylar looked up at Spock in an almost panicked way. "That can't be necessary."

Spock lowered his gaze at her. "Quite the contrary. The captain's logic is sound."

Skylar inhaled sharply, holding Spock's gaze with hers. Suddenly, her hand flew up and slapped Spock across the face. The Vulcan did not flinch. Instead, he closed his eyes tightly as his arms began to shake behind his back. Skylar pushed past him and Amelia, and she stormed through the doors. A distinct crashing sounded from within the PMP office, followed by some reprimands from a doctor and loud cursing from Skylar, cut off as the doors hissed shut once more.

The room contained perfect silence for a moment, until Amelia's voice broke it like a stone passing through glass. "Who were you thinking of?"

"What?" Jim asked, turning away from the now-closed door to meet her inquiring gaze.

"Who, Jim? Which crew member?"

Jim switched his focus up to the ceiling in thought. "I don't know," he said after a moment. "I'll go through my list tonight and brief her before we dock tomorrow. Spock will have to be on lockdown in the PMP office tonight so Bones can run his vitals." He paused. "Maybe Uhura would …"

"Don't count on it," Leonard remarked. "You can't even get her to have sex with _you_; what makes you think she'll willingly have sex with someone you pawn her off on?"

Jim sighed. "Somebody will understand, Bones. It's just one night. It will mean absolutely nothing, except an end to this thing that is happening to Spock." Jim sympathetically eyed the Vulcan, who was still staring after the vanished Skylar. "My team is already going to be lacking considerably without him."

"I'll do it," Amelia said suddenly.

Leonard spun to face her, eyes widened in shock. "The hell you will! You already _have_ a boyfriend, _remember_?"

Her eyes shimmering, Amelia took a step toward him. She wheedled, "Please, Leonard, try to understand; Spock needs someone, someone he can trust. And I trust him completely."

"I can't even – you can't be – _are you fucking insane_?" Leonard stammered in hostility.

"Leonard!" Jim yelled at him. "Calm down! She makes a valid point."

Leonard glared at him. "I'm glad this is so fucking easy for you, Jim. You get to have your happily ever after with this mission and your damned career, at the expense of your friends! You're turning into a damned good captain, but a completely shitty friend!" Leonard hurled the PADD tablet at the wall and marched directly into his quarters.

Tears were already leaking from Amelia's eyes as Jim turned to her with open arms. Amelia leaned into him as they streamed silently down her cheeks.

"This will mean _nothing_, absolutely nothing," Jim whispered to her. "Bones will get over it once he understands it more. He's just …"

"Human," Spock finished the sentence, though his response came from some dark distance.

Jim released Amelia and approached Spock slowly. "There has to be some protocol and certainty to this. Even though I won't need Amelia on-planet, her safety must be ensured in some way, even if it has to be something Bones cooks up himself."

Spock studied Jim for a moment, and then gave him a brief nod.

"I want you satisfy this _plak tow,_ but not at the expense of her wellbeing or her life."

"To the best of my abilities," Spock said honestly. He looked at the back of Amelia's head. "Lieutenant, are you absolutely certain that this is what you want to do? Once you venture down this path, there is no turning back. Your life will change. There will be conflict, and I do not solely speak of that which will happen as a part of the _pon farr _ritual. I am referring to that which will come from our social group. As you have witnessed, comprehension will not come easily, if at all."

Amelia turned to him then, her cheeks flushed and wet, but with an erect stance and fierceness in her face. Any bounce in her step or traces of effervescence that had previously radiated from her were gone, burned out of her. Instead, Amelia Takashi stood like a professional Starfleet Federation officer. "I understand, Commander. And I accept this mission."


	6. Comatose

**A/N: Robin Snyder - you're a legend. Thank you for your emails. You raise me up, as Josh Groban would sing.**

**VI. Comatose.**

Hikaru Sulu pressed his communicator so that the frequency closed. Glancing up, he met the concerned stare of Pavel Chekov, who sat at the helm next to him.

"Eets bad, no?"

Sulu sighed. "Yeah, it sounds pretty bad." He glanced over his shoulder to see the captain's chair still empty. Technically, Sulu had the con, but the melancholy tone that had alarmed him over his communicator beckoned at him darkly. His fingers absently tracing over his communicator, he looked back at Chekov.

"Ze keptin isn't back yet. I vonder if he and Meester Spock are still going at it."

"This is crazy, but I'm going to have to leave you here."

Chekov's eyes widened. "You, too?"

"Pav, I've got to see what's up with Amelia. She sounded desperate." Sulu looked back past the captain's chair in the direction of Uhura, who was out of her seat pressing buttons at her console. He politely whistled in her direction, and despite getting looks from other crewmen passing by, caught the eye of Uhura as she nonchalantly glanced over her shoulder in his direction.

Double-taking, Nyota Uhura straightened, pressing a finger to her earpiece as she hurried over to him. Crouching behind the helmsmen chairs, she said, no louder than a whisper, "What's up?"

"I'm going to leave my post for a moment," Sulu replied. "You and Chekov will be in charge. If Jim comes back before I do, make up some kind of lie for me."

"What's going on?" Nyota asked, looking worried.

Sulu leaned in closer. "Amelia just hailed me. Something bad has happened. She couldn't explain over the frequency."

Nyota nodded. "Okay, okay." She quickly glanced back toward the center of the bridge. "You don't think Spock or Jim are involved, do you? They're still gone."

Sulu shrugged. "I don't really know. All I know is, this little meet'n'greet to Trill is already laden with bad omens."

"Aye," Chekov put in. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

Nyota shared a nod of weary agreement with both of them. "Okay, if Jim gets back before you, I'll say you had an emergency and needed to go to the restroom."

"That will work. Jim wouldn't inquire about that."

Sulu stood, Nyota straightening to join him. "Just to cover our asses, let Scotty know Chekov's got the con. Though with our luck, we'll run into a fleet of Klingons."

Nyota hurriedly returned to her console where she took a seat and immediately hailed Scotty to explain the situation.

Meanwhile, Sulu looked down at Chekov, whose wide Russian eyes rounded out into two innocent orbs on his youthful face. Sulu gave his shoulder a squeeze and whispered, "I'll be right back," and made his way across the bridge with a swift stride.

It didn't take Sulu long to reach the crew quarters, where he proceeded through the familiar corridors until he came to a particularly familiar door. Pressing his hand to the panel on the side of the doorway, he waited patiently for the door to slide open. As it slid out of sight to his right, Sulu came to see Amelia standing against a vanity, with her back to him.

She caught his eye in the mirror, and then turned to face him, cheeks red and tear-stained, lips drawn tightly together.

Sulu rushed to her, and Amelia collapsed against him in despair. Throwing her arms around his neck for support, they both sank to the floor in a heap, Sulu rubbing her back as he always did when she needed a shoulder to cry on – or in this case, a chest to cry into. He glanced around the room to make sure they were alone; the only other bed in the small room was vacant, thus indicating Amelia's frequently absent computer programmer roommate was either on duty or with her boyfriend. A wave of relief overcame him; they'd have plenty of alone-time.

"Tell me everything," he murmured into her hair.

Amelia clasped Sulu's chest tightly, breathing him in. He smelled like home - everything comforting and familiar. She was instantly caught up in a memory of falling in front of her bedroom mirror with Hikaru nearby to catch the frustration-bred tears after hours upon hours of practicing. Her skin tingled as she recalled cold evenings locked away together in their fort in Amelia's backyard after stern parental scoldings about her less-than-perfect marks in Japanese class, which always brought crushing shame because she couldn't satisfy her teacher's inhuman requests.

He'd held her as she vented about her parents constantly nagging her to force Hikaru to propose to her after graduation. He'd held her when she'd said her tearful goodbye to him as she boarded the shuttle craft to relocate to the planet Tavaan after her brief term with him at the San Francisco branch of Starfleet Academy. Since their late childhood, Hikaru had always been there in her darkest hours, and she had been there in his – with him as he announced to his family and to hers that he was gay.

But through it all, Amelia had been an open book for Sulu to understand and analyze constructively. Even with his soothing voice beckoning respectfully for her pages to fall open once again, a large rock weighed heavy in her stomach. Despite bad ballet rehearsals or clumsy Japanese etiquette, infidelity did not seem like anything that could pass between her lips, even to him. Somehow a large, fierce ball of guilt ripped at her despite her innocence … she was innocent, wasn't she? After all, there had been consent given … from most of the parties involved. The crash of Leonard's PADD smashing into the wall of his office clamored around the inside of her skull on repeat. The dark look in his eyes pierced her soul; she had poured salt on the stab wound to his heart that was just now beginning to heal. She'd watched the blood run today, but could she muster the will to speak of such a crime?

A firm rub on her back from the caring hand of Sulu seemed to ease the fire. Amelia inhaled sharply, closing her eyes and resting her forehead on his chest. Perhaps maybe if she didn't watch the confession, it wouldn't be so sinful …

"I'm going to have to sleep with Spock," she whispered, her lips brushing almost romantically against the fabric of his tunic.

Hikaru's hand ceased. She felt his head lift from the top of her head, but his grip remained tight around her. "What did you say?" He gently held her out at arm's length, trying to catch her eye, still trying to soothe her by massaging her arms with his thumbs. "Amelia?"

Amelia's eyelids barely parted before tears poured out from between them. Her bottom lip quivered. "I'm going to have to sleep with Spock."

Sulu's face contorted with blatant confusion. His tone remaining even, he queried gently, "What does that mean?"

"Exactly what I said." Amelia released herself from him and brought her knees up to her chin, hugging her shins tightly. Hikaru's hands rested upon her knees as they usually did after a bad ballet rehearsal. "His medical condition requires it."

"Medical condition?" Sulu repeated. "Since when does sleeping with someone cure an ailment?"

"It's Vulcan, I don't know."

"But why you? What about Skylar?"

"Skylar can't. She's ordered to be on Trill."

"So, Spock isn't going to be on the away team?"

Amelia shook her head slowly, staring off beyond Sulu.

"I knew there was something wrong with him, but …" Sulu gave her knees a gentle squeeze. "Ams, there has to be another way," he said softly.

"There isn't." She stared directly into his eyes. "I have to help Spock. He could be dangerous to this mission and to the crew."

Sulu's brow furrowed uneasily. "If he's so dangerous, why are you being sent into the lion's den? Who's told you to do this?"

"I volunteered."

"On whose suggestion?"

"The captain's."

Now Sulu was angry. He released her, his palms down on either side of him. "_Jim_ wanted this? Did he even consider what Leonard or Skylar would say?"

"Leonard was there."

Sulu's eyes widened. "And he just went along with it?" he inquired incredulously.

"He blew up!" Amelia snapped. "What the hell do you think, Su? I'm sure he absolutely hates me right now."

Hikaru waited a moment and then continued, "What about Skylar?"

"She was absolutely furious when it was suggested that Spock find another mate to cure his _pon farr_ thing."

"She's angry with you …"

Amelia lowered her eyes. "She doesn't know that it's me yet."

Hikaru slowly moved next to Amelia and attempted to wrap an arm around her shoulder, but Amelia suddenly scooted away from him. "What …?"

Amelia turned away from him, staring down at her hands curled in her lap. "Honestly, I don't want to be touched right now … I feel absolutely dirty."

"It's just me, Amelia," Sulu reassured her. "I'm your best friend."

Amelia struggled to her feet. She turned to him as he rose gracefully from the floor, and met his gaze dejectedly. "I love you, Hikaru. But I need you to leave."

"Why are you doing this?" he questioned, hurt.

"You can't help me this time," she replied darkly. "I've made my choice. I need to figure this out." Amelia eyed the door. "Please leave."

Sulu shook his head angrily as though trying and retrying to assess the situation and failing miserably. Finally, gritting his teeth, he smartly turned on his heel and marched out of the room with his hands gripped into fists at his sides. He stopped only when he had made it through the labyrinth of twisting corridors that made up the crewmen's quarters, where he leaned against a wall with his head back and eyes closed, his brain on overload as the hustle and traffic of the corridor echoed the disturbance that flooded his mind.

:::::

Leonard McCoy's voice over the ship's PA system may have sounded like the typical doctor with a nasty disposition to most, but to a few, it was like nails on a chalkboard.

"Lt. Skylar Pike and Amelia Takashi, please report to Sick Bay immediately."

The activity on the bridge seemed to be flowing in slow motion for Sulu, Chekov and Uhura. Sulu had returned to his post, Jim following shortly after, but the captain had hardly said anything to anyone. Instead, he had returned to his chair and sat with his chin rested on his hand as he watched the stars pass by on the view screen. He had signed off on a few things for the yeomen and other crewmen that had stopped by with their PADDs, but remained quiet regardless. Finally, after a few hours of mostly silence with some brief orders to the helm about remaining on course, Jim called in his relief. As he bade everyone a well remainder of their shifts, Jim paused and stared over at the helm where Sulu and Chekov sat silently, focused on their view screens.

"Sulu," Jim called.

Sulu smartly turned his chair. "Captain?"

"Call in your relief. I need you well-rested for tomorrow's mission. You're joining the away team."

Sulu's eyes darted to Chekov's, but Chekov merely gave the tiniest hint of a shrug and remained silent. "Sir, I –"

"That's an order, Mr. Sulu," Jim had interrupted firmly as he began heading towards the turbo lift. "I'll see you for briefing at 0700 in my office." The turbo lift's doors had opened, allowing the captain to walk in and disappear behind them as they closed.

Sulu put a call in for his relief, and as he waited for the new helmsman, he briefly filled a curious Chekov and Uhura in on what Amelia had told him, without specifics. He did not mention anything about what Amelia's assignment had been; instead, he told them that Spock was in Sick Bay, terribly ill. But before he could say any more, the voice of Doctor McCoy filled the ship. And while Chekov and Uhura could only wonder idly how bad the situation with Mr. Spock was, Sulu's grip tightened on the helm console in anger.

Hikaru Sulu was not the only person aboard the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ to be publicly displaying anger. Leonard jabbed at his replacement PADD tablet as he took down a few notes in his office. The clapping of boots heels smacking the floor outside of his office caused him to raise an eyebrow as his office door opened and closed with a hiss. Leonard looked up to see Skylar standing just inside the door, still with the sweatshirt on and her hair in its low pony tail. Her eyes were red. He also noted some new bruising along her knuckles.

"Why did you call me here?" she questioned irritably. "I'm off duty."

Leonard straightened up on his stool, crossing his arms over his chest. "I thought you'd like to know the details on your boyfriend." His tone was anything but pleasant.

Skylar's stare matched his tone exactly. "Why did you call Amelia in here as well?"

Leonard smacked his lips and chuckled bitterly. "This entire thing is … complicated, Sky. You and I are both aware of that."

"We seem to be the only ones aware of that," Skylar spat. "Where the hell is Jim?"

"Did you see how the PMP office is curtained off as of now?"

Skylar glanced back, even though the door cut off her view to the outer office. "Yeah," she muttered, returning her gaze to Leonard.

"That's because Jim is with Spock, behind it. Spock's been hooked up to the monitor for the last few hours, and that's where he'll be for the rest of the night. We're going to need guards on duty. I'll need you to assign them as soon as possible."

"'Them'?"

"I'm requesting at least two per shift, Lieutenant," Leonard explained. "His vitals are off the chart and his attitude is less than poor. He's already smashed two of my PADDs, three hypos – did you smell that soupy aroma as you walked in through the office?"

"I don't really care about food right now," Skylar retorted heatedly.

"Neither does Spock. He managed to throw a bowl of Plomeek soup Nurse Chapel had prepared for him across the room, where it smashed against the wall, and now I have to smell that shit every time I open my office door."

"Cry me a river, Bones," Skylar said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'll have a team sent up here immediately. Is that it? I assume he's going to live and all."

Leonard said nothing. Instead, he stood, tucking the PADD under his arm.

Skylar eyed him closely as he walked to her.

"Follow me, Skylar." He opened the office door and allowed her through, just as Amelia walked up. Amelia instantly stopped at the sight of them exiting Leonard's office. Not looking at her in the eye, Leonard attempted to be casual with a clearing of his throat and an "Ah, Lieutenant Takashi, after you," as he gestured toward the curtain.

Not amused, Amelia led the way through the curtain as Leonard held it open for them. Gathering around the edge of a medical cot, they witnessed Spock lying topless upon the white sheet; his heart monitor thudded from above him at an irregular pace – a pace they all, aside from Leonard, figured must be normal for a Vulcan's circulatory physique. An injector module was attached to his right arm. Other than that, he was not connected to any other piece of Sick Bay equipment, yet Spock remained perfectly still as though he'd been put under.

His dark eyes were open, but almost rolled back into his head. The natural green tinge to his skin was even more apparent across his broad chest and his face. At his sides, Spock's long, slender fingers twitched slightly every so often, the only indication of actual life in his body.

Jim, standing beside the head of the bed, looked up as they assembled. "Is he going to be okay, Bones? He hasn't responded to anything I've said to him."

"And he won't, Jim."

Skylar took a small step closer to the edge of the bed. Her heart picked up its pace in her chest as her fingertips absently reached for the Vulcan's bare foot. "What are you giving him?" she asked, seemingly transfixed by the injector module.

Adjusting the PADD under his arm he darted a glance in Amelia's direction, Leonard replied matter-of-factly, "An extremely mild sedative. To be honest, I haven't done much with him. He was horribly uncooperative during the initial exam, but then he suddenly went into this trance-like state. I've been pulling up documents on Vulcan physiology, and I believe Spock is inducing some kind of intense meditation."

"Do you think he's changed his mind about mating with someone else?" Skylar asked, a hopeful tone entering the question despite her efforts to remain stoic.

Leonard sighed, giving those ranged at Spock's bedside individual glances. "Look, everyone. Let me be absolutely frank on this situation; Vulcan physiology is a very different from our own, and knowledge on the subject is hard to come by unless you have a cooperative Vulcan around to interrogate. The Academy is still issuing new data as often as it can, and being that I'm on a starship, I'm not going to be the first to receive the latest information. All I know for certain is that Spock's health is deteriorating at a swift pace."

"What?" chimed all three of the bystanders in alarm.

"But the meditation –" Amelia began, but Leonard cut her off gently.

"The meditation is self-inflicted and is – I'm guessing – a friendly gesture towards me. Like I've told you all, the effects of _pon farr_ are critical. He's been violent and uncooperative, and now his health is at risk."

"How much of a risk are we talking, here, Bones?" Jim questioned firmly.

"Death, Jim."

Skylar's jaws clenched together. Amelia shut her eyes slowly, bowing her head.

"How much time do we have?" Jim asked after a moment.

"Days."

"Specifically?"

Leonard shook his head. "I can't give you specifics with any accuracy, but I'd have to say a week at most, based on the current vitals." He placed a hand on Skylar's shoulder from behind. "He's known for a few days that this was coming … he just didn't say anything to anyone. It's that damn Vulcan complex of his."

Skylar turned to him. "Who's going to do it, Bones? Who is she?"

Leonard did not say anything as he allowed his hand to slip off of her shoulder.

"I am," came the solemn voice of Amelia Takashi.

Skylar turned to her, eyes glittering sadly.

"It's not what you think, Skylar," Amelia said firmly as she stared down her friend with an intense gaze. "I am doing this _only_ to save a life."

"To save a life," Skylar repeated in a bitter mutter.

"You heard what Leonard said."

"… save a life."

"Spock is going to die. He's going to die if I don't help him." Amelia's eyes darted towards Leonard, who lowered his gaze in a mournful manner.

Jim took a step towards Skylar. "You cannot be angry with her, Sky," he said gently. "She is making a sacrifice; that's all it is." Jim caught the glance of Leonard, who seemed highly interested in what the captain was saying. Jim restated, "It's nothing more than a sacrifice. It means nothing."

Skylar did not break away from Amelia's intense stare. Her hands were balled into tight fists, her nails digging into the hot flesh of her palms. Her jaw was locked shut, and her heart pounded like the fists of a prisoner against the cage of her chest.

The room felt suddenly hot – too hot. A dark tide was beginning to sweep over her again, and her mind flickered and raced like an old movie on fast forward – Skylar smashing the mirror with her fist; Skylar shoving crewmates aside as she stomped violently through the bowels of the _Enterprise_, radiating the acid violence that had been welling up and surging through her veins of late.

Her mind flashed back to that last night with Spock, feeling his teeth painfully marking her, his large hands roughly grabbing and squeezing her flesh. Only now did she understand his fury, as though she were connected to him by one of Dr. McCoy's instruments – she could feel for a split second an explosion of desire that electrified out from her core, igniting the rest of her through violent waves of emotion. Skylar was instantly aware that she would become lethal.

_Wait_.

Everything was black. She could see none of her friends. In the space between the blink of her eye, the entire room had been engulfed in a silent darkness. Skylar could see nothing, feel nothing, hear nothing. It was as though she existed merely as a ghost, if that.

_Control_.

A voice. It was loud and tangible in the desolate emptiness, even as its frozen wavelengths chilled her nonexistent body.

Skylar opened her eyes and looked up at Jim Kirk as he held her against his chest. Her hands were cold, and she realized that they were both on the floor. She was on the floor, with Jim. Blinking several times, trying to focus, Skylar watched Leonard bend over her with the removable scanner from his medical tricorder, moving it over her head in a couple of slow waves.

"What happened?" she asked of them both, out of breath.

Leonard stood upright and plugged the scanner into his tricorder. "Just a basic faint. You register healthy; your cardiovascular activity has hastened a bit, but with all of the emotional turmoil going around, everyone's hearts are a bit off their turntables." He glanced over his shoulder. "I really think you need to lie down, Skylar. Get some rest. This is all a lot to digest, but you'll do yourself no good by remaining here."

Turning away, he quickly added over his shoulder, "I need to take care of something, but if you want to take a sedative back to your quarters for tonight, I'll leave one on the counter." Leonard disappeared behind the curtain, leaving her alone with Jim and the cot's prostrate Vulcan inhabitant. After a moment, a whirring signaled the opening and then the closing of the door to his quarters.

Skylar glanced up at Jim again, and then attempted to force herself into a sitting position. Jim, lightly chuckling, assisted her. "Calm down, Turbo. After a stunt like that, you're not entirely independent yet."

"I fainted?" she asked as she struggled to her feet. After a few seconds of humiliating failure, she reluctantly allowed Jim to aid her.

He took her around the waist and carefully stood her upright. "Yeah, right after you started mumbling incoherently."

Skylar's eyes locked onto Spock's seemingly lifeless body. Resting her fists on the bed, she turned her face to her captain. "I can't leave him, Jim." A single tear rolled down her cheek. "I hate him so much right now … but I, I just can't go. It doesn't feel right."

"You need to rest, Skylar. Spock is going to be okay. And you know he'd think it illogical for you to be here when you have to take care of yourself. There's nothing you can do here."

Skylar turned back toward the Vulcan. "Do you think he can comprehend what we're saying?"

"I don't know. He hasn't responded to anything that's been said this entire time." He took her wrist. "Come on. I'll walk with you."

Skylar pulled her hand away. "Give us a moment?" It was a simple request, made in a voice with a slight quaver, but Jim nodded amiably. He pressed Spock's lifeless hand in his own for a brief second, murmured something too low for her to hear, and then headed out between the divide in the curtains.

Once Jim was out of sight, Skylar slowly moved to the head of the bed. Spock did not move. He did not acknowledge her in any way. His eyes continued to stare up at an awkward angle, the nictitating membrane under each of his eyelids barely visible as his eyelids lightly quivered atop his eyes. Skylar reached out and tenderly cupped a hand to his green-flushed cheek. Spock did not respond. She leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his unmoving lips, but they did not move, did not mold themselves to her own.

Skylar whispered against them, "I wish I was her."

:::::

Amelia tearfully paced back and forth before Leonard's bed, hugging herself as if holding her chest together. "I'm not going to stay long," she said quietly, her gaze on the floor. "I just wanted Skylar to have a moment."

"You can stay if you want," Leonard replied gruffly, pulling his tunic off over his head and tossing it onto the floor near his bed. Moving past her, he sat on the edge of the bed and began removing his boots.

"No," Amelia said. She paused, listening. "I think they've left."

"Amelia, calm down."

Amelia whirled around, angry. "_Calm down_?" she repeated. "Really intriguing, coming from _you_, Leonard McCoy!"

Tossing his boots aside, Leonard let his head drop into his hands. Taking a deep breath, he ran his fingers through his hair and tiredly looked up at her. "This isn't easy for any of us."

"I _never_ implied that it was," Amelia snapped.

Leonard's brow furrowed darkly. "Yeah, well, it sure looked that way, since you practically jumped up and down like a giddy school girl looking for a date to the dance," he countered bitterly.

Amelia placed her hands on her hips, thoroughly offended. "I don't know where the hell _you_ were, Dr. McCoy, but _I_ was a part of a dire meeting in which a friend was silently asking for help – in this case, for his life to be saved. And I did _not_ jump into anything like a giddy school girl. You're delusional, Leonard. Your wild temper is anything but cute." She glared at him. "You're also being a complete asshole."

Amelia turned on her heel and was headed for the door when suddenly her elbow was caught in a firm grip. "Let go of me!" she barked, but Leonard gently refused as he pulled her close to him. Amelia was not won over, stiffening as she was pressed into his bare chest, his muscular arms engulfing her in a warm embrace. It wasn't until she felt the strong, stalwart doctor shudder against her that she was shocked into reducing her resistance. Leonard's head rested in the crook of her neck, his lips against her skin. He held her tightly, but this was not his normal embrace of dominance, nor an overture to a sexual liaison; Leonard was looking to be held.

Relenting, Amelia slipped her arms around him, pressing him against her. "Oh, Leonard," she whispered, melancholy.

"I hate this," he stated gruffly.

"I am not thrilled about this either," Amelia told him, maintaining a firm tone. "And you are not making this any easier on me."

He picked his head up and looked down at her, the hardness of his stare melting away. "You don't understand how I feel; I _love you_, Amelia."

His words were like an arrow through her heart. In an instant, everything she had planned to tell him that evening – everything she had giggled about with Scotty, all of her expectations and plans for how she was going to tell him those three words, all shattered like a stone to a window. Her mouth fell agape, her eyes brimming with sudden tears.

Any woman expecting her significant other – whom she had secretly loved for years – to utter those words would have cried in the same moment, but they would have done so in joy. Not Amelia; as if the series of unfortunate events of the day had not been hard enough, a cruel reality stepped in to harshly slap everything Amelia had desired to hear and to say across its face. The poison of the blow seized her heart in its iron fist and laughed mercilessly.

She was instantly reminded of everything she had told Nyota, Pavel and Hikaru in the mess hall that afternoon about her take on love and sex and everything in between. She thought of what Hikaru must have been thinking now, as he knew her dark secret. A wave of guilt rushed over her and a cloak of hypocrisy shrouded her. A piece of her wanted to step away from the scene and laugh.

Amelia closed her eyes and pressed her lips to the bare skin in front of her face. She tried to make herself believe that these long-awaited words from him would make everything better, but her heart was as just knowledgeable as her mind. Not even her kiss to his chest or the one that Leonard placed on her forehead could relieve the pain that had corrupted her heart.

She wondered which was the better alternative in terms of attempts to rectify the moment: she could tell Leonard the truth and admit her love for him, though doing so would eventually ruin them both if she continued to aid Spock in his predicament; or she could say nothing at all in an effort to shield his heart, and in doing so hurt him with her lack of response. The wheels in her brain hastily churned – which was the more logical option? Which road offered less pain – since neither appeared to offer a chance at salvation from their doomed course?

The normally reliable wheels locked. She stood erect in a coma. In a merciful jest by fate, Leonard McCoy said nothing at all, but instead, remained in her embrace until Amelia kissed him one last time, extracted herself, and promptly left the room.

:::::

Sleep was not a commodity any of them could acquire.

Jim lay on his bed with his hands tucked behind his head. His eyes were focused beyond the skeleton of his ship, far out into space where Trill hung suspended in its own gravitational system, as simple as it was. Though he made no outward movements, his mind raced. His body talked to him, whispered to him for a release. Too much hung in uncertain suspension. He thought of the loss of his first officer on his away team roster; he thought of his friend seemingly comatose in Sick Bay. His mind lingered on a very conflicted couple who stood on the brink of a pit of no return. He worried over a mission that was nothing like anyone on the _Enterprise_ was accustomed to: wine 'em and dine 'em. How simple a task to have evolved into such a demanding trial. Doom clung to this mission, though Jim could not find the courage to speak such a thought aloud. Even in the presence of nothingness, he could not force the words from between his lips.

Jim thought of his bridge crew, his friends. It would be no surprise if they were questioning what had been going on. If anyone knew anything, he knew it was Sulu. Sulu and Amelia were terribly tight. It would be no surprise to him that everything he would brief Sulu on at 0700 would not be news to him. But being the respectful gentleman that he was, Jim expected his surprise and questionless understanding. He was sure Chekov would silently remain loyal, though frustrated in a lack of comprehension. Jim could tell that Chekov operated more comfortably when his partner was at the helm with him. It was not as though Chekov could not handle his tasks flawlessly without Sulu, but there was always a blatantly missing sense of enthusiasm whenever one of the pair was missing, especially on Chekov's end.

Jim also thought about Nyota. He knew how perceptive she was, especially about him. The girl was incredibly bright; she would play along professionally, much like Sulu, but Jim would not underestimate her. Nyota would need to be informed of everything. He needed her on her game should anything go terribly wrong. With all of the uncertainty Jim knew everyone was feeling, he imagined that everyone was on the same ship as he.

The only one of his friends that might have escaped any of this was Spock. But even then his dear friend was trapped on a whole other realm of problems, problems none of them could understand. Except maybe …

Jim's mind tiptoed in the direction of Skylar. As of now, she was to be regarded as his yeoman. Whether or not she could pull this off was beyond him to guess, now. But Jim had noticed something in her, something different. She was not anything like herself, despite the terrible deeds of the day. This put them all in a vulnerable position to their hosts. The Trills would have many opportunities to see the sudden infection of folly in his famed crew, but if they could just make it through two days on the planet, then perhaps everything would be okay. The Trills would accept their proposal to erect a Starfleet outpost. Jim's reputation would remain in good standing. Everything would go back to normal. Mostly. There would still be plenty of emotional details to iron out. Tomorrow night would be the determining factor of what would become of his crew. The anticipation killed him. He wanted his friends to be okay, and he definitely wanted Spock to be okay. But the weight of the Federation was beginning to take its toll on him.

Jim sighed heavily. He eyed the digital clock in the alcove next to him where shelves of easily accessible books and other trinkets from home awaited his need or desire. Eying the time, he noted that he should have been asleep a few hours ago, but with the excitement in Sick Bay and walking Skylar back to her thoroughly trashed quarters, time had escaped him.

Her skant had been strewn across the floor amongst other articles of clothes. He recalled seeing her wearing it the day he'd visited her in her office, the day in which the weirdness began. Skylar in a skant – absolutely topsy-turvy, he concluded.

One of Jim's hands crept out from behind his head and his fingers traced down his bare, chiseled chest, over the ridges of his abdomen, until it came to rest at the elastic of his boxer briefs. Closing his eyes slowly, he waited a moment, taking a deep breath in, and as he exhaled, he turned over and shook his head.

"Fuck," he grumbled, pouting.


	7. Friction

**VII. Friction.**

Jim's eyes fluttered open as he heard the door to his quarters whoosh open unexpectedly. In a groggy haze, he stared out across the darkened room almost shocked that anyone would just waltz into his chamber so unannounced. If anyone were to do such a thing, it would have been Spock, still failing at times to adhere to certain protocols on privacy – but with the ship approaching Trill, Jim would have understood the Vulcan's rash decision to make sure Jim was woken up to brief Sulu on time. However, Jim remembered that Spock was still in Sick Bay … and the figure approaching him was in red. Picking himself up onto his elbows, he tried to focus his vision on the figure approaching him. It was tall and slender, and the red uniform was deliciously short.

"Nyota …" Jim said tiredly, as he reached up to run a hand through his hair. "What are you –?"

But his words were cut off as he was mounted instantly and his mouth was consumed by that of the figure. Soft lips forced his to move in a sexual rhythm that instantly turned Jim on. As he laid back and ran his hands up the figure's thighs, he broke away from the kiss for a moment. "Nyota –" he started but stopped himself in shock. Opening his eyes wide, Jim stared up at the straight and sharply featured face of Skylar Pike.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" she queried seriously as she bent over him and kissed him hard.

Jim's heart began to race. His mind barked at him to stop but he could not find the power to. As quickly as he wanted to sit upright and remove his friend from off of him, Skylar began to grind against him. Instantly, Jim was aroused. He knew that Skylar was aware of this as well as she pressed harder against him, kissing him now on the outside of his mouth and moving slowly towards his neck.

"Skylar," he said in a ragged breath, "We can't do this."

She looked up at him. "You said you would take care of me." She kissed him on his mouth again.

Jim pulled away. "What?"

"You told Spock that you would take care of me," she reminded him. Her hand reached behind her back to the zipper on the back of her skant. "In Sick Bay – remember?"

Jim stared at her incredulously for a moment and then remembered the quiet exchange between him and the lifeless Spock in Sick Bay. He _had_ told Spock that he would take care of her, no matter what happened. But how could Skylar have heard? He barely moved his lips when he'd made that promise and the heart monitor itself made it damn near impossible for even Jim to have heard himself. Focusing on the display upon him, he caught Skylar's arm and stopped her from unzipping the skant any farther.

Skylar stared into his eyes, almost silently pleading with him. She reached out her other hand, cupping his face tenderly, running her fingers over the coarse stubble forming on his strong jaw line. She released the zipper per her captain's silent request and was taken aback when Jim sat upright, reached around her and proceeded to pull the zipper down. Her lips curving into a devilish smile, Skylar raised her arms high as Jim pulled the skant up and over her head. Tossing the uniform away as though it was some form of extraneous matter – which it was in these types of situations – Jim unhooked the black bra that clung to Skylar and tossed it aside as well. Groping both of her breasts in his hands, he began kissing her neck passionately. Skylar tilted her head back and let out a quiet gasp as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Jim gently bit at her earlobe as he laid her back onto the foot of the bed, now above her. He breathed into her ear, "I'll take care of you," and he began kissing her again, moving his mouth over her chin, down the front of her neck, and onto her chest region. Skylar ran her fingers through his hair as she wrapped her legs around his waist, forcing him down onto her. Jim chuckled between kisses, looking up at her.

"You are really strong." He gave her a wink.

She stared directly into his eyes, a hard stare that was almost cold. "Or you're just really weak."

"It's always a competition with you."

"This isn't a game, Captain." Skylar pushed him up so that they were upright again. "So fuck the foreplay."

Jim barely had time to give her a confused look before Skylar pushed him back onto the pillow so that he was laying flat. "Holy shit," he murmured as he watched Skylar pull his boxer briefs off. "I don't think that's really fair," he commented.

"All's fair in love and war," Skylar replied simply, running her fingers up and down his thighs. "You're such a good friend, Jim."

Jim sat upright and planted a kiss on her lips. "You're the _best_ friend, Skylar." He quizzically watched as she moved away from him and stood next to the bed before him. "You know, I've …" His eyes followed her panties as they slipped down her slender legs to the floor. Skylar stepped out of them. " … needed this. Like seriously. Needed. This."

"You're not the best," she remarked honestly. "I've had to do most of the work, here. For a Starfleet captain, I'm disappointed."

Jim licked his lips; he didn't know whether the mood was completely killed or if he even wanted to show her how admirably he could perform. After all, he was fucking James T. Kirk – he'd _never_ had a complaint. "I can't say I'm too impressed, either," he retorted. "For a weapon's master – you've yet to master this weapon." He indicated down at his arousal with a tip of his chin and flicker of his eyes southward.

Glaring at him, Skylar marched to Jim and promptly sat down in his lap, facing him. Jim pressed his mouth to hers, her tongue parting his lips instantly as his thumbs brushed over her breasts. He then moved his hands down her bare sides as Skylar began to slowly move against him; Jim nearly squeezed her as he felt himself entering her. A gasp escaped his lips as his mind began to race – _how was this happening_? He couldn't lie, he'd had a dirty fantasy (or two) about hooking up with a girl friend before. But to _actually_ be committing the act with one of his best friend's girl – it was completely dirty. So. Very. _Dirty_.

Pleasure rippled throughout his body as his fingers pressed into her hips while he held her against him, trying to make her move faster on him. Even as he tried to control her, Skylar's movements were all her own. "This … is … so … bad …" he breathed as he looked up at her, watching her take him in.

"So great," she moaned. This sent chills running down Jim's spine. He'd never felt like this before; he felt guilty and heavenly all in the same moment. Skylar was a woman on a mission – she had no time for small talk, he concluded. She came to conquer, which was something that she and Jim had in common. Jim was not used to being on submissive side of the sexual game. He had yet to find a girl who could use _him_; that is, until Skylar had walked through his door. He could do this. It seemed easy enough.

Almost too quickly, Jim could feel that he was going to climax soon. Despite a silent desire to make it last, Jim could not control what his body wanted. As much as he wanted her to slow down to prolong the moment, he couldn't control her. He wasn't entirely sure where she was in the scheme of timing, but Jim knew that he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. In a rash decision, Jim wrapped an arm firmly around her and picked her up, instantly halting her grinding against him. Kissing her passionately, Jim clumsily moved with her attached to him until he had her up against the nearest wall where he then took the reigns and began to thrust fiercely into her. Just as he was about to release everything into her – his fears, anger, confusion and feeling of inadequacy – he felt his head begin to tip back. Two large hands seized his face. The lips he kissed tasted differently and her breasts – her breasts – where did they go?

Jim opened his eyes and looked into the intense stare of Spock. Jim screamed as he fell backward, hearing the familiar voice of Spock whisper darkly, "_Such a great friend, Jim_."

Suddenly Jim was wrapped up in sheets as his limbs struggled fiercely to free themselves from their confinement. With a mighty yell, Jim sat upright and heaved uncontrollably. His room was still dark but his eyes adjusted quickly. He sat alone, entangled in his sheets on the floor beside his bed. There was no skant or bra strewn about, no indication that _anyone_, female or Vulcan, had been there. Jim immediately looked under the sheet. His boxer briefs were still on, but his arousal remained. He sighed heavily.

"_Fuuuuuck_," was all Jim Kirk said as he looked up at the digital clock that read 6:30am. He sighed heavily and fell straight back amongst the mess of sheets that entangled him.

:::::

The corridors of the USS _Enterprise_ bustled as a subliminal countdown began amongst the crew members. Jim Kirk had made the announcement just after an anxious Nyota Uhura had confirmed coordinates from the station at Trill: they would be arriving within the planet's gravitational orbit in just less than seven and a half hours. Despite the fact that this was a significant chunk of time to iron out dress uniforms and polish off the tops of boots, for the a few of the crew members assigned on the away team, as well as those closest to these few, the time could not have flown by any slower than the blink of an eye. As the corridors snaked through the ship like freeways with vehicles rushing by in a current of fast forward, those on the away team and their peers were caught in a moment of slow motion. Voices called out Starfleet jargon to the next; assignments were given, expectations set, and an air of contagiously excited professionalism clung to the uniforms of red, blue and yellow as they flashed by in a stream of color.

Jim's briefing of Hikaru Sulu had been a quick one. As the helmsman sat at attention before his captain, Jim observed as Sulu outwardly executed perfect Academy discipline in his understanding of the situation. His presence in Spock's place as Jim's first officer (though this was not the correct order in which the baton would have typically been passed in rank) would consist of excellent listening skills, thorough analysis of the negotiations that were conversed about, and direct counseling to the captain – Sulu would have to be the perfect example of a Federation diplomat. And under Spock, Jim saw no better fit than Hikaru Sulu. He was just, insightful and possessed an ample level of passion and trust in himself as well as others. Furthermore, he was particularly charismatic, which put him a few steps ahead of Spock on the emotional aspect of diplomacy. But even though Sulu's intellect did not lead into the encyclopedia range that Spock possessed, Jim was thankful that he'd have a very human representation by his side before the Trills, especially at the rate that everything seemed to be falling apart around him. Despite the fact that nothing serious had happened as of yet, he was highly aware that this mission to Trill was anything but top priority on his away team's plate – and his very human friend Sulu was a perfect representation of this. Even though in his briefing Sulu was did he display the perfect cadet character, Jim instantly realized how much Sulu knew outside of their mission to Trill. He was also very aware that Sulu was hardly ever so serious around Jim, even at the helm. And as much as Jim tried to impress upon himself how lucky he was to have such a well-disciplined, studious helmsman, a tiny pit of worry and guilt seized him at how in place Sulu was. But Jim would not let this fear show. He maintained his cool and paced before Sulu with the plans for Trill flowing out in eloquent confidence until at last he'd reached the end of his expectations for Sulu. Sulu had nodded professionally and had stood tall before his captain, indicating his request to depart the room. Jim hesitated for only a moment. _Not yet_, he instructed himself. _I'll see how the others are_.

"I'm going to call a final meeting of the away team," Jim explained, gesturing to Sulu's seat with a hand. "Wait a moment."

Neither nodding nor responding verbally, Sulu sat back down in the chair.

Bending over the PA console on the conference desktop, Jim said over the speakers, "Doctor McCoy, Lieutenants Takashi and Uhura, Ensign Chekov and all away team personnel, report to the conference room immediately."

Within a few minutes, everyone filed in and took their seats around the conference table. Everyone who was on the away team – Skylar, Scotty, Sulu and two of the ship's chief security representatives alongside Skylar, Lieutenants Torres and DeHaven – were almost completely in their dress uniforms. Skylar was in her skant and the bruising along her neck had been covered beneath concealer, though she also donned a red Federation issued dress blazer. The neckline of the blazer aided in masking the deep markings along her skin. Everyone else was in their regular uniforms. The only unifying factor in the room was the exceptionally apparent tension that had formed into a massive white elephant. Only Torres and DeHaven were out of the loop on what was personally affecting the large group of their crewmates. Jim turned to them, briefly scanning over their uniforms.

"You look good, gentlemen," he said to them. "Were the instructions clear as according to the content of the message I sent to each of you around 1830 hours yesterday?"

"Yes, Jim," DeHaven answered. "Torres, Pike and I have already given our orders for the security personnel as to what is to be expected of them over the next 48 hours."

"And there is a rotation set for Commander Spock's room," Torres added. "Although I'm not certain of the severity of the fuss, I can guarantee you that the lockdown is fully effective as of 1830 hours last night."

Jim's eyes quickly darted in the direction of Bones, who stared at the conversation with a reserved demeanor. "Commander Spock is undergoing a severe medical condition which unfortunately might result in some hostile interference. Just have your co-heads keep the boys alert, that's all there is to say on the matter, gentlemen."

Torres and DeHaven nodded, though they both appeared unbelieving.

"Torres and DeHaven, you are both dismissed to your current duties until our departure call time. Docking bay, 1445 hours."

Torres and DeHaven both nodded and walked out of the room in hastened paces, leaving Jim standing before a conference table with all of his personal friends who all stared at him in uncertainty, anger and discomfort.

"Let's cut through all of the bullshit," Jim said suddenly, clapping his hands down to the tabletop and running a gaze over them all. "I'm going to pretend that none of you are acquainted with the situation at hand."

"Jim –" Leonard started to speak but Jim raised a hand to silence him.

"Let me finish, Bones. Spock is in Sick Bay battling a disease that may very well kill him."

Skylar shifted in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. Leonard gripped the edge of the table tightly, and Amelia lowered her gaze from Jim. All the while, Sulu's eyes shifted in the direction of Amelia, just missing her gaze while Chekov and Nyota surreptitiously exchanged unreadable glances. The only one who seemed to be completely out of the loop on the contention of the situation was Scotty, who merely sat with his arms resting on the tabletop, watching Jim in a curiously alarmed calm, unfazed by the sudden suffocating grip around everyone else's necks.

"Kill him, Captain?" Scotty repeated, looking toward Leonard. "Isn't there something Dr. McCoy can do?"

"Not McCoy, Takashi," Skylar said suddenly, with an icy tone.

Amelia instantly turned in her chair and gave Skylar a heavy stare. "Excuse me, Skylar; this isn't easy for _any_ of us."

"I'm terribly confused at the moment," Scotty mentioned as Leonard began to laugh coldly.

Amelia slammed her hands down onto the tabletop, leaning forward in her seat to stare down Leonard. "There you go again, Leonard, being a complete asshole!"

"I'm sorry I can't just dismiss the entire situation so easily!" Leonard groaned.

"And you think I can?" Amelia shot back. "I thought we went over this last night."

"So, Leonard last night, Spock tonight?" Skylar chimed in, fiddling with her nails.

A hush fell over the room, all eyes on Skylar. Everyone aside from Amelia and Scotty stared in wide-eyed shock. Scotty began shaking his head in utter befuddlement. Amelia's eyes began to brim with angry tears.

"I can't believe you just said that," Amelia stated, deeply offended. "I am trying to save your boyfriend's life!"

"That was an extremely bitchy thing to say!" Nyota hissed at Skylar, who immediately smirked mockingly across the table.

"Of course you'd jump to defend her, you've been around the galaxy a few times, haven't you?" Skylar remarked shamelessly.

"Why the hell would you say that?" Sulu demanded of Skylar.

"All of this fighting is absolutely unnecessary," Chekov chimed anxiously as everyone began to stare the other down, save Scotty and Jim who sat and stood watching everyone around them fall apart instantly.

"Come on, guys," Jim called out tiredly.

"You're such a bitch, Skylar," Nyota acidly threw across the table. "You're so quick to dish out and then play the victim – it doesn't even faze you that Spock may die tonight; you just don't want someone else being his last, don't you?"

Skylar leaned across the table, pointing a finger warningly at her. "You better shut the hell up, Nyota, before my fist makes you shut up."

"You both need to shut the hell up!" Sulu yelled at them.

"What about Leonard and me? How the hell do you think _we_ feel?"

"I am very much in tune with how you feel!" Amelia argued in Skylar's direction. "You and Leonard think I can handle this _so_ easily, that I literally jumped into this …"

"There are so many other women on this ship …" Leonard put out there in a heated tone.

"You're willing to risk some other woman's life _just_ so it won't be mine?" Amelia asked in disgust. "What about how _she_ feels?"

"I'm trying to protect you!"

"I don't need you to protect me, Leonard!"

"And what the hell are you supposed to do when Spock starts physically fucking you up?" Skylar hissed at Amelia.

Leonard clenched his fists on the table.

"I will deal with it," Amelia hollered back.

"Enough!" Jim yelled, but he was ignored.

"Amelia can handle herself, she's a strong woman!" Nyota shouted at Skylar. Chekov instantly grabbed onto Nyota's forearm as she began to rise out of her chair.

"_Shut up, Nyota_!" Skylar angrily yelled. "You don't know about _any_thing going on here." She instantly wiped at her neck, cringing at the pain as her palm made sharp contact with her injured flesh. The purple bruising began to show through. Pulling her neckline down with one hand and pointing up at the bruising at the other, she displayed the bruising for everyone to see, finally turning to Amelia. "You see this? _This_ is what you're going to walk around with for days on end, _if_ he doesn't crush you first. This isn't going to be sex with Spock – he's _going to rape you_!"

"_Fucking shut up, Skylar_!" Leonard growled at her.

Scotty instantly stood from his chair. "What the _fuck_ is going _on_?" he clamored above it all, everyone silent in their anger as they finally acknowledged the quietest one in the room. Scotty looked pleadingly at Jim. "I was told we were on a diplomatic mission to Trill, something as simple as kissing ass and having a drink with the senator, and all of a sudden Mister Spock is raping our friends and may die – somebody of sense, _please_ fill me in! This is maddening, all of it! Where the hell is any of your control at?" As he slowly took his seat again, those standing followed.

Jim watched as his small crew lay in the shambles of their battle, physically and emotionally destroyed. They had yet to see any of the war that lay ahead. If today was already going so poorly, how would tonight pan out when everything was planned to be settled?

"All of you, listen up because I'm going to say this once and only once; in fact, everything that comes out of my lips in this moment is the _only_ truth you will adhere to – I don't give a damn how you think to interpret it, because you're already wrong. This is how the story goes:

'Spock is going through a medical crisis, something native to his planet called the _pon farr_. It is a ritualistic time of mating, and yes, Spock will need to mate with someone in order for his health to be returned to him. I know that sounds different from what we humans are used to, but dammit, he's not human – well, completely; this is how it is. Pike cannot be the one to mate with him. It is imperative that she is on-planet with me as my acting yeoman. It was stipulated by Starfleet should any negotiations go sourly, and the away team and myself arrive at danger. As much as I did not want to leave Spock behind, seeing as how he is my first officer and a hell of a diplomat – and this is his duty, it had become clear that he is destructive in his current state, so while he is in lockdown, I've requested that Sulu fill in as my acting first officer. Chekov and Uhura will have the con in my absence, and Scotty, Bones, Torres and DeHaven will be on the away team as previously instructed.

'This, of course, leaves Lieutenant Takashi to save us all. As imperative as it is for negotiations to succeed in our favor on Trill, we of course want to see a healthy, non-destructive Mr. Spock on the bridge again as soon as possible. Takashi has _graciously _and _selflessly_ put herself in harm's way of the situation and of her friends to offer assistance to Spock. Listen, guys, I _know_ how unorthodox this all is. We as humans do not openly celebrate what is going to take place in this instance, but of all the people to have the right to be upset right now, it's Amelia. She did not accept this mission with any ill-conceived intentions; in fact she was well aware of the possibility of horrible back-lashing from her peers, which is absolutely horrible. I thought we were all better than that. She is merely offering to be here to save our dear friend from a harsh reality, and here we stand so quick to cast stones at her. I get that this is harder for some of us to fathom, but let's be adults about this. Or better yet, let's be the supportive friends we are in every other disquieting circumstance we face. It is seriously disheartening to see how quickly we've managed to fall apart over something we each have the power to get over. This isn't some stupid love game – this is a case of life and death, and we all need to treat this as it were, because it is. That is the harsh reality of the situation. Spock will die if we do not accept what his biology has requested of us, and all of this squabbling and the pointing of fingers is absolutely extraneous to the solution.

'Right now, everybody needs to get over any issues they're having with anything and focus on the task at hand. You've all gone through the extensive training that Starfleet has requested of you; you should be able to remain focused on your current objectives. If you cannot, then feel free to be dismissed from duty as we speak.'" Jim paused as the table sat silent in the center of the conference room, all eyes on him. Straightening out his dress tunic, he continued, "As your captain, I expect nothing but your utmost pristine performance of your task at hand. I will not tolerate anything less than that, because I have watched you all do so countless times before. You are all an immaculately constructive team and one hell of a group of friends. It's time to start acting like that again. This mission is unlike anything we've ever encountered before – it's positively simple in essence. The flip side is that of what Spock is going through, and in this we all must remain strong for him and for each other. If we can't help one another out, what's the point of saving him? If I were him, I wouldn't want to return to such a fallible group of 'friends.'"

Jim looked out at the faces before him. The tension had not passed; many were still tight-lipped as dark moods clung to surrounding air with clamped fists.

"You all need to be ready for your assignments at 1445 hours, and my away team needs to be in full dress uniforms. Have one carry on bag with your duty uniforms for tomorrow. Dismissed," he commanded sternly. As he watched his crew rise in heavy silence, he observed Skylar as she hesitated, her hands both clenched to the tabletop much as Leonard had had his fingers around the edge of the table. Her eyes stared intently at the table as though trying to burn a hole through it, but she did not seem to be physically there. As Uhura stood from her chair, casting a glare in Skylar's direction, Jim watched Skylar's eyes flash upward to meet Uhura's glare, but Uhura turned smartly on her heel and followed Chekov out. No one said anything as they passed him. Only Scotty gave him a concerned look, to which Jim tried to shrug sympathetically. Scotty merely shook his head slightly and moved past Jim.

"Lieutenant Pike, may I have a word?" Jim inquired, only Leonard ahead of Skylar. He gave Jim a quick raise of an eyebrow before he passed by Jim and the doors closed with a hiss behind him.

Skylar looked up at Jim, a confused look on her face. "Everybody left?" she asked, her expression softening.

Jim took the seat nearest her, concerned. "Weren't you listening?"

"I heard you," she snapped suddenly, looking at him sharply. Immediately realizing her tone, she added, "Captain."

Ignoring her last comment, Jim told her, "I just dismissed everyone. You seemed to be elsewhere."

Skylar shook her head. "I have a lot on my mind."

"So does everybody else. Are you going to be functional for this mission?"

Skylar stared at him hard. Her fingers did not release the table until Jim, now looking down at the whiteness erupting under the skin of her knuckles, gently clutched each of her hands and pried them off of the table.

"You seem extra violent today, Sky," Jim noted as Skylar quickly placed her hands in her lap. "You nearly attacked Nyota."

Skylar rolled her eyes and exhaled with a sneer. "Don't get me fired up right now, Jim. I'm liable to take someone out."

"Kind of like your boyfriend," Jim commented.

Skylar said nothing. Instead, she looked down at her hands. "I am probably going to go down to the course for a circuit before call time. Maybe that will ease my nerves."

"It usually does," Jim said. "I'm assuming you haven't been training much over the past few days."

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"Because you seem especially angry."

"I don't think you understand at all, Jim. Try putting yourself in my place, or even Leonard's place. This is _not_ easy."

"You can't be mad at Amelia."

"It's not that I'm …" she started, pausing. "I don't know what I am. I'm not necessarily mad at her … I'm just … mad. I'm mad at everything."

"I'm sorry about all of this," Jim said gently. "You're right, I haven't really put myself in your guys' places. I've been really concerned about Spock."

Skylar sighed. "Which should be the priority." She looked at him. "I can't help my human emotions. I can't help how I feel about all of this shit. It's completely blindsided everything."

"And everyone."

Skylar nodded. "I just feel this fire … everything's just kind of piled up as of late, and this fire has begun coursing through me. I find myself wanting to hit something or hurt someone …"

Jim waited a moment, just watching her. She appeared tired. Her eyes wandered away from his, and he could see a glint of shame in them. She wasn't telling him everything. "You didn't answer my question, Skylar. Are you going to be able to –?"

"Yes," she replied firmly, staring back at him. "I will be fit for duty. I just think I need to do the circuit. Then I'll be calmer."

"You really think punching something and overworking yourself is going to calm you down right now?"

"I can't think of any other release right now," she admitted. "I don't want to do anything else. I need to be in my element for a moment longer before I become your yeoman for tonight."

_Release_, Jim thought. He inwardly laughed. This gave him an idea.

"You know," he said, a smirk playing across his face, "I'm going to tell you a little secret." Despite the fact that they were alone in the conference room, Jim leaned closer to her.

"What?" she asked, almost in annoyance of his sudden change of mood.

Chuckling a bit, Jim replied, "I had a sex dream about you."

Skylar's eyes widened just a bit and she slowly backed away from him. "You did?" she questioned, but not in a way that would suggest that she was repulsed by this.

Jim, slightly confused on where his attempt to make her laugh went wrong, laughed nervously. "I mean, it's like, no big deal. I can't even remember any details," he lied. _Boy, are you going to hell in a hand basket_. "I just thought you'd find that funny or something."

Skylar nodded slowly, still trying to process what had just been revealed to her. She immediately cleared her throat and started to stand.

Jim jumped up, putting his hands out to her ruefully. "Hey, hey, I'm sorry if I stepped out of bounds, Sky," he apologized sincerely. "I didn't mean to offend you, I was just trying to lighten the –"

"What did I do, exactly?" Skylar questioned him suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

"I said what did I do exactly, in your dream?" She stared at him closely, the wheels of her mind tinkering away.

Jim ran a hand through his hair in a state of slight panic. He had just said he didn't remember the details, but he was strongly curious to see where she was going with this whole inquisition. Smacking his lips nonchalantly, he replied, "You came into my quarters and seduced me."

Skylar waited a moment, thinking, and then nodded, appearing unbelieving. "Uh huh," she replied shortly. "That was obviously a dream." She moved passed him in an effort to leave when suddenly Jim took her hand and stopped her.

"Wait, wait," he remarked, turning her around to face him, "What does that mean?"

"It means, Captain, that I'd never do such a thing."

Jim released her and pursed his lips, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, tell that to your dream self; you were quite the nympho."

Skylar rolled her eyes.

"Seriously, that's it?" Jim inquired in all seriousness. "You looked as though you were thinking about something important."

Skylar smacked her lips. "I guess, that's just kind of odd."

"Odd?" Jim repeated as he watched her turn to leave.

Skylar nodded as she made her way to the door. "Yes, I said odd."

"Why is that?" he called after her. "Is it because you wouldn't be caught dead lusting after me in reality, Pike?" he scoffed.

As the doors slid open before her, Skylar looked over her shoulder at him. "Aside from that, it's odd because … I had a dream about us, too." And Skylar quickly exited the conference room, leaving Jim to stand befuddled by their exchange. After a moment, a smile of triumph crossed his face.

"Jim boy, you are back in the game," he quietly exclaimed to himself.

Jim promised to keep his smug smile on his face the entirety of the day. There was no time to be negative; things would work out. His friends would eventually make peace with one another. As of right now, he had to be the captain of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_. Everything else would have to wait.

At 1440 hours, a fully dress uniform-clad Captain Kirk entered the docking bay where several red shirted crewmen were finishing up on the shuttle craft that would take the ground team to Trill's surface. As he walked toward the smaller vessel, he heard the rushed clapping of boot heels against the surface of the hanger floor. He stopped and turned to see an angry Leonard McCoy marching after him in his blue dress tunic. The rank pieces on his chest glinted with polish, his expression much the opposite of such an honored recipient.

"Two damned hours," spat Bones as he stopped before the captain. "Two hours and then I'm back onboard. I'm not going to leave Amelia with that devil."

Jim gripped Bones by the shoulders and pulled him in close, their noses barely three inches apart as Jim stared beyond the hardened mask Bones wore, into the eyes of an obviously desperate man. "And what good will that do you?"

Gripping Jim's wrists, Bones began to argue, "He'll hurt her, he'll –"

"You're going to hurt yourself, Leonard," Jim pressed sympathetically. "Whether you like it or not, they will have sex. It will mean _nothing_ expect saving Spock's life. You will have to understand that, one way or another. Torturing yourself and even adding the possibility of ruining that by rash decisions will ruin everything, and possibly everyone." Jim released his friend, though Bones remained near him. "Look, buddy, I'll only keep you here for the two hours; I think your presence medically is important, should something happen with Spock. But I really think you should consider a little bit of talk and drink with the Trills. It may help you calm down a bit."

Bones sighed heavily and ran his hands through his hair in defeat. "This is fucking happening, isn't it, Jim?" His stared into the younger man's eyes with a gaze full of anxious, childlike sadness.

Jim took Bones by the base of his neck and gave him a reassuring squeeze. "Your woman is the bravest that I know. And she loves you. More than you know."

As they released, Lieutenants Torres and DeHaven, followed by a skant and blazer-clad Skylar walked into the hanger. Her hair was in a low ponytail again hanging over the side of her neck where the bruising waited, hidden beneath make-up. The three of them approached the doctor and captain, nodding cordially, DeHaven giving Bones a chuckle.

"The Trills needing check-ups now, McCoy? How'd you get conned into this shit?"

"Hey, hey now," Jim reproached calmly, "This mission isn't 'shit.' It's 'kiss ass,' and refer to it in private respectfully so."

"According to your Academy peers, you'd be the last person running for Federation poster-child, Kirk," Torres scoffed coolly.

"My reputation precedes me; I'm flirting with an admiral position. There could always be an opening, and I see you two getting nowhere near it fast."

"That's James Kirk, always flirting with an opening," Skylar remarked passively.

"I'm sure he's flirted with your opening on several occasions," DeHaven laughed, nudging Torres in the process.

"Not as much as you've flirted with Torres's," Skylar replied simply. "The only difference being that I vehemently declined."

Jim offered the two Lieutenants scoffing winks as Skylar passed them all and proceeded to the shuttle craft where Scotty poked his head out of the doorway, assisting her in.

"There you are, lass," he chimed.

"Just because I'm wearing a skirt doesn't mean I'm crippled," Skylar reminded him as she strapped herself in.

"Are you okay?" Scotty asked her in all seriousness as he caught the rest of the party walking towards the craft. Looking back at her, he quickly added, "They're all coming, so we don't have to speak of it now. But if you need someone to talk to, I'm here."

Skylar looked up at Scotty and hesitated for a moment. "Thank you, Scotty; I'm okay."

Scotty sadly nodded just as Kirk, DeHaven, Torres and McCoy entered the shuttle craft.

The main pilot at the front of the shuttle craft looked over her shoulder and kindly reminded them all to be seated and strapped in, as they would be taking off shortly.

With DeHaven, Torres and Jim cutting jokes for most of the trip, Leonard stared outside the window of the shuttle craft as the stars skirted by in the distance. As Trill came into view, most of the craft was in awe of its beauty, but Leonard could not pull his mind away from his final departing from Amelia. He found her at Spock's bedside, the Vulcan staring up at her. No words were exchanged, but McCoy was slightly surprised to see Spock coherent. His lips had been a line across his face as Spock's black eyes locked in on Amelia's scared brown ones. She only tore away from Spock's gaze to see Leonard standing there, watching them.

"Jim needs me," he'd said quietly.

"Then go," she'd replied simply, appearing wounded.

Leonard tightly clutched one of the drapes around Spock's confinement. "I'm only going to gone for an hour or two. Is there any way that this could wait until I'm back?"

Amelia gave Spock another look before slowly walking toward Leonard. "It's only going to make things worse," she told him quietly.

Leonard took her by the shoulders and gently squeezed. "I won't let him hurt you."

Amelia had wrapped her slender fingers around his wrists and forcefully pushed his hands away. "Trust me," was all she said before turning around and pulling the curtains together tightly before him, separating them by thin drapery.

Back in reality, Leonard placed his forehead against the glass of the craft's window and closed his eyes tight.


	8. Boil

**A/N: **I am really trying hard not to hate some of my characters right now. Hopefully you try not to hate them, too.

**VIII. Boil.**

If there was ever a time Skylar Pike wanted to strangle something between her angry fingers, this was it. Holding the end of the skant down as surreptitiously as humanly possible as she and the rest of the ground team exited the shuttle craft before the small welcome assembly on the Trill loading dock, Skylar gritted her teeth towards the humanoid senators and ambassadors that awaited them. There were five in total. She knew none of their names, and in this moment, she could care less. What felt like a wave of heat passed over her to the degree of which she began to perspire. This was exceptionally mind-boggling as she was hardly dressed in anything and the temperature of the hangar was relatively comfortable. Her uncomfortable stride had to be ignored; Jim, in the lead of the party, naturally, was now being acknowledged by cordial smiles. It was game time.

The Trill in the middle of the small line, a tall, slender female with long chocolate locks and an attractive face of experience offered a hand to Jim Kirk with a look of reservation.

"Captain," she greeted evenly as Jim instantly took her hand and gave it a shake, "On behalf of our people, Trill welcomes you and your crew."

"Thank you, Senator Dorraine," came the confident and slightly surprised voice of Jim as he turned to introduce his small team. All of them had been under the impression that the senator was male. Keeping a polite hand just behind the Senator's elbow, Jim extended his other hand out to each crewman as he introduced them. "My first officer, Lieutenant Commander Hikaru Sulu," he said pleasantly as Sulu gently tipped his head toward the Senator. "My chief engineer, Montgomery Scott," he continued, Scotty mimicking Sulu. "Two of my security chiefs, Lieutenants DeHaven and Torres."

"Two of them?" Dorraine inquired peacefully. "Were you expecting combat during our negotiations, Captain?"

Jim chuckled politely. "Hardly so, Senator. If there was ever a branch in Starfleet that never gets what is considered to be time off, it is the security personnel. I promised them some time off the ship to experience what your planet has to offer."

"Of course," Dorraine stated, though her tone was even. "Continue."

"Here we have my lovely yeoman, Skylar Pike," Jim said, giving Skylar a smile.

Skylar smiled politely at the Senator.

"And lastly, my chief medical officer, Doctor Leonard McCoy," Jim said, to which Leonard also politely smiled. Jim turned to Dorraine and continued, "Unfortunately, our good doctor has some very important medical work to continue with onboard, so his stay will be considerably short."

"By all means, he can go whenever he deems fit," Dorraine remarked offhandedly. "Really, Capatin, it is you we wish to converse with about this proposal from Starfleet." She began to walk with the other senators and ambassadors in tow. "Walk with me," she said over her shoulder toward the _Enterprise _crew.

Jim looked at his friends and motioned for them to follow. Scotty, DeHaven and Torres complied instantly while Skylar and Leonard gave each other cautious looks.

"Captain Kirk," Dorraine said loudly so that the captain could hear her voice despite the fact that he walked behind her and her flank of Trills, "Do you see how small this hangar is?"

"Quite so, but the size is appropriate to its purpose."

"Your Federation offers an expansion of it, among other things," Dorraine continued, "Should we decide to enter into negotiations."

"Perhaps it would be best to talk about this in a more confined area, Senator?" Jim offered.

The Senator stopped and motioned her flank away. When the others were out of earshot, Dorraine turned to the small group, eying Jim closely. "Now, Captain," she started in a harsh tone, "the last time your Federation comrades came here on a 'peaceful diplomatic mission,' it ended sourly with your people accusing mine of foul play. In fact, one of your soldiers was wounded and one of mine was to blame. There was a terrible miscommunication that completely embarrassed my planet and its people."

"I'm not familiar with the details, Senator, only that we were to come here and offer what the Federation is willing to give."

"To be completely honest with you, Captain, and before your crewmen, I am not thrilled that we should have to reestablish this contact. The Federation has a way of getting what it wants at the expensive of what is deems necessary, and when things were not completely to their terms as of last time, the diplomacy was lost. We were deemed to blame. I am very much on edge about this meeting, Captain Kirk, and I will not have a repeat of it."

Jim took a step towards Dorraine and replied in a comforting tone, "If you'd feel better without my crew around, all you have to do is ask. As aforementioned, you don't want any conflicts, and frankly, I don't either. I simply come to you with what my superiors have to offer you, and my word that nothing will go wrong. However, if there is any discomfort in any area of this mission, all I ask is that you make me aware of it and I will make sure that it is taken care of immediately. This is your planet and your people, and I am more than prepared to make sure that no one feels threatened by our presence on this limited stay."

Dorraine watched him closely before stating, "Tonight there will be a dinner. You and your team will be seated with us. It will be pleasant and entertaining. Tomorrow morning, depending on how the evening goes, you shall come to me for negotiations. You shall see what our people have to offer you in terms of building an outpost, and we shall discuss from there. At that time, I would request that all Federation personnel be beamed back aboard your ship and your ship ready to receive you at any moment, need be."

"I accept all of your terms, Senator, however, my yeoman will be needed to officially document everything."

Dorraine looked to Skylar. "Very well, Captain. Already you have begun to tread a thin line."

Jim politely smiled. "She's harmless, Senator." He gave Skylar a wink. "What will you have us do until dinner?"

"Despite my obvious distrust of your presence here, the other ambassadors and senators are anxious to get acquainted with you all. So, I will take my leave and I shall see you all tonight."

"Thank you, Senator," Jim replied as he watched Dorraine turn and quickly head toward the opposite side of the hangar.

"So what do we do now?" Leonard muttered toward Jim.

"Like the senator said, we make our rounds, and then we wait in our staterooms until dinner," Jim replied quietly. "Everyone needs to be smiling and act completely intrigued by everything."

"This mission completely sucks," Skylar muttered as she tipped her head in the direction of two of the approaching ambassadors. "Entertainment, one o'clock."

Jim shot her a look. "Perk up a bit, Pike, you're a yeoman, not a tactical officer. Be a little more … fake."

Skylar rolled her eyes and then proceeded to smile vacantly.

Jim chuckled. "That's my girl."

:::::

Amelia Takashi looked down at the computer console where the time flashed at her from the top right hand corner. Movement behind her alerted her as she quickly turned and watched Nyota and Chekov enter the PMP office, both looking weary. Exhaling slightly, Amelia turned back to the computer.

"How is he?" Nyota questioned, looking past Amelia at the curtains.

Amelia immediately pulled the curtains apart to expose an empty bed. "It took reinforcements but the security team escorted him to his room. He's active but very much in that trance of his. He knocked out three guards in the process."

Nyota bit her lower lip. "This is so crazy," she said breathlessly.

"Doctor McCoy had Hikaru contact me," Chekov said meekly. "He vanted to make sure you were steel okay."

Amelia held out her arms in an air of sarcasm. "Still alive, as you can see."

"He will be beaming aboard soon," Chekov continued.

"I don't know why he wants to be here," Amelia stated darkly.

"Because he loves you," Nyota said softly. She touched Amelia's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "We are all worried, Amelia. Isn't there some other way?"

Amelia looked at her and finally shook her head. Her lips were a thin line etched across her face.

"When are you going to confront him?" Nyota inquired.

"He was really riled up when the security came, and very violent," Amelia answered slowly. "I'm going to give him some time. Then I'll go."

"Thees is so unfair," Chekov stated in sadness.

"The choice was mine," Amelia snapped. "I'm not doing this to hurt anybody, but I just – I just need to be alone for a little bit, okay? I need some time to gather myself before I go …"

Nyota nodded and turned with Chekov in tow. As Chekov passed through the doorway, Nyota stopped and turned back to Amelia. "You're going to be fine."

Amelia looked at her.

"It's Commander Spock, somewhere in that Vulcan vessel," Nyota continued. "You're gonna be fine."

"He's not Commander Spock anymore, Nyota."

"He's only half Vulcan, you know." Nyota disappeared beyond the doorway.

:::::

Several elongated tables lined a large oval area where several Trills dressed in active wear stood at the center of the oval in preparation of the celebratory dining games in honor of their Federation guests. Senator Dorraine, as well as many other Trill officials, sat sporadically about the tables, each in their own conversations with each other and their symbiotic partners as well. Though the room was smaller than a typical game stadium, it was almost packed and the din was plentiful while dishes waited to be topped with food and the entertainers prepared for their show.

Jim took a seat next to Skylar, who sat beside two empty chairs. "Scotty and Bones are both heading back to the ship," he said quietly as he pulled the napkin from under the plate and stretched it across his lap.

"Why?"

"Leonard wanted to go back to the ship, naturally, and Scotty is more affected by this than he leads on; his excuse was that he was going to beam Bones up, but they have both been kind of whispery so I wouldn't be surprised if Scotty is going to be hanging around with Bones until … you know." He paused and looked at the empty chairs beyond Skylar. "Where are DeHaven and Torres?"

Skylar looked at him sharply. "For a captain, you sure as hell do not know what's going on with your crew."

"My mind is focused on Dorraine," Jim reminded her firmly, eying the senator from across the oval ring. "She wouldn't even sit with us. I have a lot of work to do on getting her to like us."

"DeHaven and Torres are chatting with some Trill females at another table," Skylar told him as she took her napkin and unfolded it. "They figured, since you offered them leave, that it was their right."

"That whole explanation was bullshit," Jim replied.

"Everything you've said lately has been bullshit," Skylar reminded him. "You are a bigger kiss ass than I've ever given you credit for."

"I'm not kissing ass, I'm using my flawless charm to accomplish this mission. The last captain that tried this obviously was not up to par on the charm."

Skylar looked at him with a sarcastic glimmer in her eyes. "I don't know how you pull me into this, Jim."

"Because I'm the captain," he answered her, matter-of-factly. "And you are my yeoman."

"I think you're starting to believe that."

"Regardless of your rank or fake rank, I am the captain."

"I could really mess this up for you, you know?" she said, placing her hand over his on the table.

Jim laughed, eying the gesture. "Skylar, you'd hate to be demoted for real, right?"

Skylar smiled at him. She then purposely removed her hand from off of his and allowed her napkin to be pushed off of the tabletop in the process so that it fell into his lap. "Oops," she said with mock concern.

"Really?" Jim asked, seeing past her false ruefulness as he took a hold of his glass of water.

"I'll just get that," Skylar said.

Just as Jim was about to pull the napkin off of his lap for her, Skylar's fingers clenched onto his thigh. Jim's eyes widened as he took a sip of the water, nearly spitting it out as her grip tightened. Carefully putting his water glass down, he looked at Skylar, blatantly questioning her yet trying to remain composed. "What are you doing?" he hissed, his eyes darting around to make sure no one had seen this interaction.

Skylar leaned in close to him. "Captain," she whispered, "If you tell me about your dream, I'll show you what happened in mine."

Jim turned to her, his lips barely parted as he recalled his sex dream. "You mean –?" He nearly gasped as her fingers clamped tighter around his leg.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Enough," he commanded through gritted, his hand clamping over hers. "What the hell has gotten into you?"

"According to our dreams, you did."

Jim's eyes widened as he pried her hand off of his thigh. He quickly glanced toward the senator. Dorraine was immersed in a conversation with her partner. Suddenly, the lighting dimmed just as the performers began their show in the center of the oval. While everyone's attention began to be directed at the center of the room, Jim's eyes fell onto Skylar's as she stared intently at him. Jim had never seen her stare at anyone as she did now. His heart began to pump a little harder in his chest.

"How did you …?"

"It was sex dream, Jim," Skylar replied.

Jim turned his attention back toward the oval. "Enough, Lieutenant. We'll discuss this later."

"I look forward to it."

Jim slowly looked at Skylar again as she began to remove her jacket, revealing just the skant she was wearing. Jim raised an eyebrow at the gesture but returned his gaze down at the oval. Clasping his hand together under his chin, he leaned forward on his elbows to pretend to be intently watching the show. But his mind began to race even faster than his pulse. And that annoying male arousal feeling was beginning to arise again.

Suddenly, Jim felt a warm hand fall onto his thigh again, but not constricting grip followed. He felt Skylar's fingers gently massage the area that she had just dug her nails into. The feeling was pleasant and considerably inappropriate.

"I can't stop thinking about it," he heard her say.

Jim looked to her again. "What?"

Skylar fully turned to him in her seat, her hand remaining on his thigh, though it had moved slightly upward toward his groin. "In my dream, we were together like this."

"Watching a Trill dinner show? Trying desperately to get Senator Dorraine to trust us so that our jobs are not in jeopardy?" He leaned in close to her again. "You realize your hand is going to get us into a lot of trouble."

"I used more than my hand."

Jim sighed. "Okay, you win. You don't need to sabotage this mission."

"I'm not trying to sabotage anything, Jim."

"You said you could mess this up, and you are well on your way to doing so."

"I'm past that now," she told him, barely parting her lips as she leaned in closer to him so that he could feel her breath against his lips.

Jim clasped the hand that was on his thigh again. "Please, Sky, I'm begging you … why are you wigging out right now?"

A pause in her existence overtook her as Skylar became as vacant as her smiles earlier in the day. She blinked several times and then quickly removed her hand as though she had no idea how it had gotten there. "Jim," she said in sudden urgency, "I don't feel well."

"Go back to my stateroom and we'll talk there," he said. "Just lay down and I'll be there soon. Maybe I'll send you back to the ship as well."

Her bottom lip quivering, she took a deep breath and shook her head. "I can perform my duties to you," she said firmly.

"At this point, you can't," Jim reminded her curtly. "You're dismissed."

Skylar paused for a moment before quickly leaving. Jim watched her go. When she had disappeared beyond the doors leading into the room, he exhaled sharply. His heart pounded like a fist against the inside of his ribcage, yearning to be out of confinement. He placed his head into his hand.

:::::

Scotty, now dressed in his normal red tunic, walked into Dr. McCoy's office just as Bones was pulling his blue tunic over his head.

"I've just seen Amelia. She's getting ready to head to Mr. Spock's quarters," he reported seriously as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Leonard eyed him, his mind racing behind his intense gaze. "Any chance that I –?"

"No," Scotty cut him off curtly. "I would fully advise against it. She's in a right foul state, and rightly so. McCoy, you'll only make it worse."

Angered, Bones turned to him. "Dammit, Scotty, so I'm just supposed to sit here and wait while my girlfriend bangs that bastard?"

Scotty grabbed Bones by the shoulders. "Pull yourself together, man! For the love of God, she isn't doing this to spite you. Did you find her another way?"

Defeated, Bones shook his head.

"Then don't go around crying here."

"And I'm supposed to just be okay with it?"

"Hell no, Doctor. We'll wait until the lass enters the room and then we'll stake it out."

Bones eyed him closely. "What do you mean?"

"I mean this: I don't want Mr. Spock hurting Amelia any more than you do. She isn't my girlfriend but she sure as hell means a lot to me, as well. If anything sounds out of the ordinary, we'll intervene."

Bones shook his head. "I don't know if I can … listen, Scotty. I don't know …"

Scotty responded harshly, "They called in back up when escorting Spock because he knocked three guards unconscious. Buck up, Bones, and be prepared to defend your woman."

"She's made it very clear that she doesn't want defending," Bones remarked sourly. His expression softened slightly as he bowed his head. "Scotty … I've only said this one other time in my life, but … my heart is breaking. And it hurts so much more this time around."

Scotty waited a moment before he gave Leonard another squeeze to the shoulder. "If you cannot do it, then I will."

Bones lifted his head as he watched Scotty exit his office. His fingers went to his temples were he pressed into his flesh in an unforgiving manner before running his fingers back through his hair, his hand finally coming to rest against the coarse stubble that lined his chin. Leonard suddenly felt the alarming urge to cry. Glancing to the counter nearest him, he thundered out at a lone hypo and struck it across the room in a desperate yell.

Heaving in aguish, he gripped the edge of the counter and bowed his head in defeat. In a low growl, Bones demanded of himself, "Get it together, man!" before pushing off of the counter and stalking toward the door like a drunk man on the prowl. As the door hissed open, nearly mocking him with its alertness, Leonard gripped the outer doorway for support. He turned his head about the empty corridor, instantly settling on Scotty's back. It was eerily quiet in the corridor, especially in Sick Bay behind him – too quiet. Even the clacking of Scotty's boot heels seemed muffled as the beating of the pulse in Leonard's ears began to overcome the silence.

_Where the fuck is everyone?_ Bones questioned to no one. _The captain jumps ship and it's like a fucking ghost town._

_Maybe they don't want to hear the shrill screams of your girlfriend getting raped._

Leonard's hand came to his forehead with a slap and smeared the perspiration down the front of his face. Hell suddenly seemed like a breeze, the temperature on the _Enterprise_ had risen so suddenly … perhaps _his_ temperature was the culprit. "Scotty!" he cried out, and he watched his friend instantly stop and turn on his heels.

His sight became tunneled before the earthquake seized him. At least, this is what Bones considered to be an earthquake; the Southern country doctor had never experienced an actual earthquake, but everything within him began to boil up from his core as the rippling outward effect caused his body to buckle and release its tension to the point that Doctor McCoy's knees began to shake underneath him. Through blurred vision, he watched Scotty run to him as Scotty began to grow taller than him and an explosion of pain gnawed at his knees. He saw Scotty bend down and take hold of his trembling body, Scotty's face in a state of shock.

"Nurse! Nurse!" Bones heard him cry out in his muffled Scottish accent.

_Shock, shock …I'm fainting_, Bones diagnosed. He refused to close his eyes as another pair of hands grabbed hold of him and a higher pitched voice clipped at his ears. Before everything turned black, Bones heard the word "hypo" from whom he assumed was Nurse Chapel.

Then, right on cue, Leonard McCoy passed out.

:::::

Amelia was sixteen years old when she starred in his first ballet recital. The picture Hikaru had tucked in between the pages of his old textbook was of her in her first recital. She remembered the day vividly; she had been extremely overwhelmed by her stepmother, who was trying her best to help Amelia prepare for the task at hand, which, to her stepmother, was a task. But Amelia knew that her dancing was anything but that. The extreme pressures of her stepmother began to weigh down heavily on her that day, so much to the point that she had rushed out in her ballet outfit to the place that she and Hikaru frequented when they wanted to escape from the confines of their equally demanding families.

The tree house, as shabby as it was and secured on the ground at the base of an old tree, was built out of old scraps of wood and sheet metal. Though dilapidated on the outside, it held up perfectly from the San Franciscan weather and the lock on the door was enough to keep everyone – save Amelia and Hikaru – out. They'd hidden their treasures there; but more importantly, they hid themselves in there. Hikaru kept his photography collection and Amelia kept her secrets. Despite the shared leisure to journey into another world whenever either or both of them chose to, Amelia was surprised to see Hikaru at the tree house. When she had entered, she saw Hikaru in his dress jacket and pants, obviously ready for her recital, wiping down one of his great-grandfather's cameras – his favorite of the few of them. A surprised Hikaru had turned to her.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be en route to the recital?"

Amelia ignored the question and took a seat on the floor, her eyes wide and very far away.

"You look beautiful," Hikaru had mentioned honestly as he and his camera sat down slowly beside her.

Amelia had looked at him, a single tear escaping her eye. "I can't do this," she had said simply.

"You're crazy, you know that?" Hikaru chuckled. "You let them get to you."

"First, it was my hair. Then, the ties around my wrists weren't tied in perfect bows." She had eyed him narrowly. "I only have two hands, you know."

Hikaru had rolled his eyes. "You forgot to mention that the straps of your ballet shoes are at different heights."

Amelia looked down at her toned calves. She began to flex and point her toes at a steady rhythm.

"If you ever thought of dancing for them, you're fucking crazy," he had said. "It would be a lie."

"They almost had me."

"Don't. Don't ever." He had paused and then continued to wipe down the camera in his hands with a cloth. "She doesn't need to be perfect."

Amelia chuckled absently. "She isn't. By any means. She's far from it."

"Is she angry?"

"This time." Amelia had looked at him as he continued to maintain his camera. "This time, she is."

Hikaru had casually glanced at her. "Then that's what she is, this time. Maybe next time, she'll be something different."

Amelia sighed and pulled her legs up to her chest, easily wrapping her slender arms around her knees. She had placed her chin on her arms. "Maybe next time she'll be dancing for something important."

"What's more important than dancing for you?"

"I can't always be angry, Hikaru. I can't always dance to show them that I'm never going to be who they want me to be. One day I want to dance for something epic – something happy, and beautiful. I want to be graceful."

"You're graceful … in a domineering, 'I'm going to kill you' sort of way. Besides, it's always entertaining to see the looks of question on their faces when the curtain closes and our families look as though they've just come out of a kung-fu flick."

Amelia laughed. "I can't ever tell from the stage." She had paused, glancing down at her shoes. "I feel so alive up there. So free. Like this was what I was meant to do."

Hikaru had placed his camera in his lap and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, gently pulling her against him. "Don't ever let them take that from you. No matter what, you dance for you. Always. The stage is your sky, your feet your wings. Just fly. Nothing can hurt you."

Amelia had sighed.

In the present, Amelia sighed heavily. Her heart pounded within her chest as she ran her fingers over the soft Vulcan blanket that sat neatly draped over Spock's bed. Her eyes flickered toward him. The Vulcan stood in the shadows as he had been when she'd first entered the room. It was dimly lit and completely silent except for the Vulcan's breathing. His chest expanded and shrunk in violent rhythm – something Amelia was all too familiar with. He had not moved from that spot in the corner, facing her, his fingers clenching the air within his palms. The two black pools on his face had watched her as she had come into the room, her mind in another time, and she had sat herself on the edge of his bed. She faced him.

"I'm never going to dance for anyone but myself," she whispered to him, though he made no acknowledgement of her words. Her bottom lip began to quiver. "But that's all I ever do," she continued into the darkness, staring at her hunter. "I told Hikaru once that I wanted to dance gracefully, beautifully, because of happiness. I told myself that when I had to quit, when I left for the Academy and Tarvaan. I didn't want to dance again if it had to be an angry defense mechanism because that's the dancer I'd left behind, on Earth. It was the middle finger to my parents, to the precious little girl they thought I'd become – conformed, obedient and safe."

Spock said nothing.

Amelia gripped the blanket between her fingers. "I danced for the Vulcan council once. You were there. I spent a semester in the science program. I had also told Hikaru that I wanted to dance for something epic, something important. But that dance was just another way to show you all that I could never conform to your systematic ways of dance; to the conformity of silence in disturbing the status quo. Your forms of dances are so common, so classical. There's no touch, no passion or risk – it's all so safe. And despite my inner weariness, I couldn't help myself then. I fought against you. I never got my moment of beautiful, graceful dancing out of just being me. Me just being happy."

Spock still said nothing. He remained in his eerie trance-like state, only his breathing and the twitching of his fingers as they skimmed over the flesh of his palms offering any signs of life within his body. The haunting glimmer of his eyes was locked onto Amelia.

Tears began to slip down her cheeks as Amelia took a deep breath. "I don't know who you are, but I can guarantee that you won't know me either. It won't be me, Spock. I _love_ Leonard. My heart belongs to him solely, and I can't be here for you."

Spock's hands suddenly stopped moving. There was a pause in him before he took a step toward her.

"I'm not graceful," she whispered as both of her hands locked around the blanket she sat on, her eyes glued to the Vulcan that began to approach her from beyond the shadows. "I'm not happy."

Spock's eyes narrowed down at her.

"_I'm not m_ –" Amelia began to whisper before she was cut off by the violent swing of Spock's hand as he struck her across the face.

Everything went black.


	9. Fouette en tournant

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to two lovely ladies who constantly keep me writing. I love you both and happy late birthday ;)**

**VIIII. **_**Fouette en tournant**_**.**

Jim Kirk placed his hands into his trouser pockets and carefully looked around as the assembly of Trill officials and noted citizens began to disperse in an excited din. The lighting in the arena began to slowly brighten. The fast-paced crowd moved along in a chaotic rhythm before the young captain, but somehow, Jim could not locate the fast-forward key within his own programming. Something inside him gripped at him like a quick and light tapping from a nowhere. Absently, he turned half a pace and found himself looking upward at the high ceiling. His breathing was deep and paced evenly.

Through all of the scuffling of shoes and boots along the wooden flooring, Jim heard a distinct pair of steps. He stole a glance to the side, seeing Senator Dorraine passing through a small clutter of her people in his direction. She stared at him intently; her lips were still a straight line across her face. Her robes billowed out behind her and her finger tips were pressed together before her, mid-torso. She appeared to have a lot on her mind, but more so determined to say something to him directly. Jim fully turned to her, trying to maintain a casual, comfortable demeanor. After all, the Trills were humanoid and resembled his physique to a tee almost entirely. Yet, aside from the two security chiefs that were still absent from his presence, Jim was the lone alien within the crowd. And more and more, everything that was weighing him down on the Trill surface was becoming obsolete in his eyes.

"Head in the clouds, Captain?" came the stiff tone of Dorraine.

Jim cracked a smile. She was like a kindergarten teacher en route to offer Jim an all-too familiar slap on the wrist. "You have no idea, Senator."

Senator Dorraine's lips curled into a lopsided smile that found a way to surprise Jim. She halted before him, tipping her chin up ever so slightly to meet his stare. "You didn't really seem to be involved in the theatrics of the evening."

This time, Jim offered a chuckle. "Oh, I was involved in theatrics … just not on this planet."

"You don't seem like the typical diplomat," the senator admitted as she instantly took his forearm and pursued a small course that he obliged to instantly. Their stride went against the current of the mass. It was slow and steady, and led the couple through a smaller door towards the back of the arena.

Jim inhaled deeply as he and the senator stepped out into the night, onto a small balcony that overlooked the docking bay and the outer city until his gaze rose up to the stars. The senator released him as they both stepped to the edge of the platform and took hold of the smooth wooden railing. The air temperature was lovely; Jim savored every breath that he took as waves of freshness entered his nostrils and cleansed his lungs.

Quietly, Senator Dorraine broke the silence between them. "You aren't the type at all, actually."

Jim continued to stare out at the soft glow of the stars. "What do you see, Senator?"

"I see a boy. A reckless one."

Jim eyed her. He watched her as she turned around so that her back was now against the railing, her hands clutching it at her sides.

"This wasn't the mission you wanted, was it Jim?"

Jim licked his lips, cocking an eyebrow and returned his gaze outward. He ran a hand over his chin, the formation of stubble collecting apparent as his fingertips felt each little tickle. "There's a very distinct line between wants and responsibility. It's hard to cater to both at times. But that doesn't mean I abandon either."

"And so you shouldn't." Senator Dorraine paused. "But what's in it for you?"

Jim glanced at her, his curiosity piqued by this change in her cold demeanor. Was he being hunted, suddenly? Carefully, he said, "I don't understand."

"I think you do, Jim. I think you're just afraid."

"Of …?"

Dorraine leaned in closer to him. Quietly, she replied, "Of where your answer to me will lead you."

Jim watched as Dorraine moved away from the railing and opened her arms out wide to the city before her. "You see this, Jim? Isn't it beautiful?"

Jim nodded. "Yes. Almost like home in a way."

"Have you ever been to a planet like this?"

"Several."

"Have you ever been to Trill?"

"No."

"Have you ever had to perform negotiations on a planet like this before?"

Jim eyed her again. Dorraine placed her hands on her hips.

"Truthfully."

"No, Senator, I have not."

Dorraine took him by the forearm. "You don't give a damn about this, do you, Captain?"

Jim stood before her, staring directly into her eyes. "I give a damn, Dorraine."

"Just not about this," Dorraine said, releasing him. "And therein lies our problem, Captain." Dorraine shifted her gaze to the city. "I do. With all of my being – I do."

Jim followed her gaze. He sighed deeply. "Regardless of my personal beliefs, Senator, and with all do respect to you and your people, I do have a responsibility to fulfill. This is my mission."

"Do you always run into the mission you've been given half-heartedly, Jim?"

Jim's jaw clenched.

Dorraine stared at him hard. "What would your security chiefs say?"

"She – they would say that that is suicide."

Dorraine smiled softly up at him and her eyebrows both jumped up on her forehead stealthily. "Your yeoman," she murmured. "I should have guessed." Louder, she continued, "Never half-heartily in terms of defense, though. Because if your half-hearted offense should go miserably, at least the Federation would have something to fall back on."

Jim crossed his arms over his chest.

"The second I was contacted for this negotiation, I looked into everything, Jim," Dorraine continued. "I am not an ignorant female. It is my responsibility – and _want_, fortunately – to know who is beaming down to my planet and why; what baggage they bring with them and what ammunition they are using. Your name is not unknown to many and your ship is almost legend. You are Captain James T. Kirk of the famed U.S.S. Enterprise. The Federation must think I am incredibly ignorant that I should overlook why they called _you_ for this mission."

She slowly placed her hands on the railing. She slid them almost romantically across the smooth surface, watching her own action. "You are a talented tactical captain. You operate with one of the galaxy's finest offense crews. Beyond that, you are a just a boy who knows how to get what he wants and is used to making that so. You are the poster child for the Federation."

Jim was at a loss for words.

Dorraine looked up at him. "The negotiations have failed before they even begun. As aforementioned, Captain, I give a damn about this place. You don't. You could care less what is built here, or even what _we_ could offer to your Federation." She touched his forearm again, and the touch was soft and light. "There is something more to you, Jim. But it is nothing you'll ever find making half-hearted attempts at diplomacy on the ground. Whatever it is, it's up there." She applied pressure at her fingertips. "You may not give a damn about this place, but you give a damn about people. There are people that you dreamily stare up at, up there in the stars."

"I'm not sure if you want me to be offended or flattered," Jim stated cautiously.

Dorraine smirked. "There is a distinct line that separates them both. You shouldn't abandon either." She tipped her head respectfully to him and turned to walk back towards the door.

Jim watched her, his cheeks growing hot as he saw the wind run its long, slender fingers between the folds of her robes. "Dorraine!" he said suddenly, and the Trill stopped. She looked back at him.

"No, reckless boy. The answer is no."

Jim stood silent as he watched the Trill Senator and his hopes of successfully negotiating on behalf of Starfleet disappear behind the door.

His walk of shame was a little lengthier and quieter than he'd wanted. He continually ran a hand through his hair and whenever anyone would pass him in a corridor, his gaze would shift toward his feet before giving them a brisk greeting. Finally, Jim's hand outstretched to the door of his room. Turning the handle, he pressed open the door and proceeded in. He was not surprised that Skylar was there laying on his bed, her gaze out the window. She was dressed in a black tank top and black shorts that resembled the ones she generally worked out in. She did not turn to him upon his entry, but rather kept her arms crossed over her chest.

"I think I was just mind fucked – _hard_," he said, sitting on the opposite edge of the bed. He began to unhinge the clasps down the front of his formal tunic.

"Both Torres and DeHaven reported back," Skylar stated tiredly, turning her head to him. "They are both in their rooms now."

Jim pulled off his tunic and tossed it onto the bed next to him. He sighed deeply. "I really screwed this up somehow." He heard movement on the bed but did not acknowledge it as he placed his head in his hands. "I feel so defeated." Suddenly, two warm hands began to massage his shoulders.

"Don't feel too bad, Captain," came the smooth words of Skylar. "You were never much of a talker when it came down to things. The smooth talk only lasts so long until it all just falls away."

Jim slowly sat upright, forcing himself against her hands. "What does that mean?"

Skylar leaned in close to him, kneading his shoulders with her knuckles. "It means the charm is intriguing at first but the gist of the words is empty." Her hands traveled over his shoulders and down the length of his arms. "You are so appealing and sexy, and you know all of the words to make that worm on your hook so tasty." She clasped her hands over his, her lips close to his ear now. "But we dumb fish always forget about the hook."

Jim tipped his head back to look at her and Skylar pressed her lips to his forcibly. Jim knew that that would happen. It was a side of her he never expected but something he expected of her tonight. A significant part of him was surprised that it did happen – actually happen. He didn't really want it to happen … didn't he?

Jim moved his hands away from hers and broke the kiss, standing from the bed immediately. He turned to her. "What the fuck are you doing?" he asked as evenly as possible. "My friend and your boyfriend is on the brink of death, and you're kissing me – what the hell is up with you?"

"He's allowed to play but I can't, Jim? You play all of the time … and I can't."

"You don't want to play, Skylar. You're better than that. I know you love Spock."

Skylar reached down and pulled the tank top over her head, exposing her breasts. "It doesn't matter. Nothing else does." She tossed her top between them.

Jim very carefully looked down at the floor to her tank top, trying desperately not to see her nakedness. His body was beginning to betray him. He walked to the top, picked it up and held it out to her.

Skylar carefully wrapped her fingers around his wrist and pulled him to her, wrapping her other hand around the back of his neck with a firmer grip than Jim expected and pulled him into a deep kiss. Her tongue thrashed out at his in the most sensual way; she pressed up against him, and he could feel her nipples hard against his skin. She was trembling against his warmth. Her nails pressed into the skin behind his back. It was slightly alarming and far too easy. Jim broke the kiss again and tried (with minimal effort) to move away from her. But her grasp was strong and his heart was only half into the protest.

"We can't do this," he whispered to her as she took his hand and placed it on one of her breasts.

"Jim, I _need _you," she whispered back, almost painfully. "You understand how I feel. You want this, too."

Jim's fingers twitched as her soft flesh ignited all of the tactile sensors in his hand.

"It hurts so much that I want to _kill _something … but I really, _really_ need you, right now, inside me," Skylar pleaded with him as she began to feel his grip on her breast tighten. Wrapping both his arms around his neck, she pulled him so that he was on top on her on the bed.

Jim began to heatedly kiss her, Skylar reacting similarly. He was hard instantly as he felt her hands travel down to the button of his trousers. As she began to release the button from the hole, Jim's heart began to race. He opened his eyes and when he did not see Nyota, he instantly pulled away from her and gritted his teeth, releasing an irritated growl.

"Fuck – Skylar – stop it." He looked down at her harshly. "We _cannot_ do this. We can't betray them."

Skylar narrowed her eyes at him. Suddenly, she slapped his hard across the face. Before Jim had any time to react, Skylar grabbed him and pulled him back onto the bed, this time turning him over and mounting him. Jim eyed her with shock as he found himself pinned under her, her eyes wild and his hands bound above his head under hers. She kissed him hard, biting his lip in the process. He gasped, which allowed her access into his mouth. As her tongue forcefully fought against his, she released one of his hands and ran her nails with a surprising amount of painful pressure against his skin and down his side. She released his mouth so that he could gasp again, this time in pain, before sensually biting at his neck. Jim's free hand attempted to confine hers, but she found his erection first. She squeezed. Hard.

Jim moaned, tilting his head back in sweet agony as he felt Skylar's grip on him, her fingers rotating against the material of his trousers.

"Betrayal," she breathed into his ear before quickly snapping at his earlobe, "This isn't betrayal; it's natural." Skylar moved down onto his thighs and began to unbutton his trousers.

Jim's mind was in a hazy frenzy as his emotions and reason began to duke it out without gloves. He managed to sit up on his elbows, pain beginning to throb in the bitten and scratched areas on his body. He could taste the bitter, copper delicacy of blood that was now tainting his lip, a fresh reminder of what was happening. "Skylar …" he started to say, his mind questioning the reality of the situation. Hadn't this happened before? Maybe he was just asleep. But the throbbing of his arousal and the fact that it was now apparent behind his boxer briefs as Skylar pulled his trousers off seemingly effortlessly from his body spoke otherwise. "What's gotten into you?"

"Isn't this familiar?" she questioned him with a playful grin on her lips. Her fingers slid into the top hem of his boxer briefs, the touch all too much for him. Jim instantly sat up, trying to find the logic in what Skylar was telling him without letting the horrible desire to allow her to press on in her mission to conquer him prevail. His body screamed at him to let her continue – _he needed this_, his dick told him.

"… the Academy?" he questioned quietly as he took hold of her hands again and brought them each around his neck so that he now held her in his lap.

Skylar stared at him for a moment, her body beginning to move against him in a sensually impatient way. "Your dream." She secured her mouth over his and kissed him passionately, gripping his hair in her fist.

With every successful grind against his arousal, Jim realized he was losing this battle. _Why the _fuck_ am I not, like, Vulcan right now?_ his mind screamed at him. Then it happened – his mind began to take him back to the dream. She was in his lap, they were near the end of their encounter and he stood … he took her to finish it off … against the wall … and – _Spock!_

Jim grabbed Skylar by the arms as forcibly as he could without trying to purposely harm her, and he pushed Skylar back so that she could not kiss him anymore. He stared at her hard, gritting his teeth. He was furious at everything. He could have yelled it he wanted to, but with great struggle, Jim forced himself to remain as calm as humanly possible. His girth still pressed against her, Jim shook his head at her, not breaking eye contact. "This is over, Skylar. We're not stupid cadets anymore, and this is not a dream. This is reality, and we've both completely screwed up."

Skylar, now in her own painful agony, shook her head as tears began to fall from her eyes. She tried to press herself against him, but Jim's grasp was finally at its peak. "Please …" she tried again, but Jim shook his head. Skylar's eyes narrowed darkly out him, and all at once she screeched and bit at him. Surprised, Jim moved back but maintained his grip on her.

"Calm down," he said soothingly as he watched his friend finally bow her head in defeat, her body shuddering in his lap.

Tears now rushed down her face. If there was anything more surprising to him about the night, it was that Skylar Pike was now openly crying in his lap. After a brief moment, Jim released her hands and promptly gripped her around the shoulders, pulling her into a tight grip that he knew she'd have trouble getting out of. Waiting for Skylar to make a tactical advancement to subdue him again, Jim merely sat with a crying security chief against his chest. He couldn't help but rub her naked back. He felt her nudge her head into the crook of his neck, her sobs loud and pained.

"What's going on? Why is this happening?" he asked.

"It hurts," Skylar replied between sobs. "I have to, Jim."

"Are you trying to make a statement because of Spock's _pon farr_? This will only make it worse, Sky. This won't solve anything."

"It's like fire," Skylar managed to say as she cried.

Jim's mind began to race. He began to recall what Spock was describing as the _plak tow _once it had begun to control his every thought and movement. The blood fever, he'd called it. He was erratic and violent. He was anything but himself. Fever … like fire?

Jim began to recount his conversation with Spock.

"_What are you talking about? You would never hurt anyone."_

"_I already have."_

Spock had admitted that this biological function would render the host into doing everything in his or her power to mate. But Spock had not wanted Skylar to be his relief.

"_Mating with Skylar will not suffice; she will need to be present and in excellent health for your assignment on Trill."_

"_You mentioned before that you'd already hurt someone. Did you mean Skylar?"_

They had obviously had a sexual encounter during Spock's _pon farr_. And being that he and Skylar had been intimate for a while prior, was it possible that she could contract this kind of … virus? Jim thought that this idea seemed far fetched as it was only native to Vulcan biology. However, the only being that Jim knew of personally with any sort of telepathic abilities was Spock, but somehow Skylar kept reminded him of his dream … _My dream_, he thought suddenly. How else could she have known, unless she had somehow picked up the ability to mind meld from Spock? Was this possible?

"Holy shit," he murmured.

Skylar snapped her head up at him. "Jim," she started to say, but Jim gently pressed her head back to his chest.

"It's going to be okay, Sky," he said softly to her. "You're one of my closest friends. I'm going to make this right. Everything's going to be alright." He carefully slid her off of his lap and onto the bed. Suddenly he realized that all of the pain and the extreme desire for her were gone. Crouching down before her, taking her hands with one hand and grabbing for her tank top with the other, Jim looked up at her in complete seriousness. "I think I understand what's going on," he said. "While I'm not a doctor, or even a Vulcan, I think I get it. And though the solution to this may be that I should give into what my body and I want – and God, help me, I am a weak man who would love to say yes to you again – my responsibilities lie with making sure _all_ of my friends are okay. Skylar, I love you. And I love Spock, and Amelia and Leonard. But if making love to you will fix what you're going through with a loss of Spock's friendship and trust, I'm sorry to say that I can't be the one to fix you. He's going to have to help you himself, because this issue is beyond me. I'm not the one to fix this piece of the mess."

Skylar watched him, shaking. "It hurts," she stated robotically. "Jim, it hurts."

Jim stood tall before her. He gently took her arms and guided them up, pulling them through the arm spaces of the tank top. He then pulled it down and covered her nakedness, giving her hands a squeeze thereafter. Jim pulled her to a standing position and looked her square in the eyes. "I won't fail you this time," he said.

:::::

_Somewhere in the darkness, a spotlight formed a holy__-like beam of light upon a crouched figure in the center of a stage. An earthy shawl-like cloth encased her head, covering her hair and wound itself tightly around her neck. The end piece spilled over her neck and lay in a heap on the polished floor that she stared down at, her reflection a constant reminder of everything. She balanced herself on her arms, leaning into them, these encased slender columns of bone and flesh and muscle; she was draped in brown, and around her torso was a cage that locked her into the lengthy dress. _

_Amelia raised her head. She looked out into the dark void. The spotlight was so bright that she saw nothing, and the silence was overbearingly loud. Her gasp echoed out at the darkness. Amelia stood slowly, her eyes searching around for something warm, something familiar. As she lengthened out, her eyes fell in defeat back down at her reflection in the floor. She embodied the perfect figure, the perfect look. Not an inch beyond her hands and face peeked out through the Vulcan attire. She was perfect. _

Spock looked down at Amelia as she lay on the bed, her eyes blinking rapidly as she began to recover from his blow. He tilted his head to the side in observation, the dark pools on his face trying to understand the life form before him. However, the mound of flesh and bone did not represent anything beyond the task at hand. His eyes scanned over the soft curve of her face and the shapeliness of her breasts; he followed the red skant that covered her hourglass figure down to the bottom hem where two fabulously slender legs protruded over the side of the bed.

He blinked several times, a mind on autopilot calculating every inch of flesh seen and unseen. The answer was simple: the specimen was perfect for domination. After all, someone had to live. If one wanted to survive, one would have to fight. And if there was one word Spock's body was screaming at his head, it was survival.

Spock instantly pulled the tunic over his head, tossing it aimlessly to the side. His hands fell to his uniform trousers where, without unfastening the clasp, he vehemently forced himself out of them and kicked them to the side. His chest expanding and collapsing at an alarming width, Spock leaned over the stirring body of Amelia and with two strong hands opened his grip wide around the base of her neck. He pulled her to a sitting position without any effort. He watched lifelessly as Amelia's head started to loll to either side, her eyes trying to focus on his face. She was completely disorientated; a thin trail of blood escaped from the side of her mouth where the blunt force of the back of his hand had struck at her shamelessly.

Looking her straight in the eyes, he said darkly, "You will obey."

_Amelia's hands went to her mouth dramatically and she allowed her head to loll around in a counterclockwise rotation once before she cried out, throwing her arms out above her head. She stood on pointed toes, though neither could be seen due to the length of the dress that covered her. She tried desperately to breathe but the corset suffocated her with its tight grip on her ribcage. In a desperate effort, she brought her left foot up, sensuously dragging it up the inside of her leg at point, stopping just above her knee. Crying out in pain from the pressure of the corset as its base dug into her hip, her leg snapped out into a perfect arabesque. She could barely hold it up before she lost her balance and was forced to let her leg drop, landing in fourth position. _

_Amelia's eyes caught her reflection again. Dropping to her knees and allowing the tears to flow freely, Amelia screamed down at her reflected self. Raising her fist high into the air – _

Amelia grabbed onto each of Spock's wrists as the pressure around her neck from his fighting fists began to become deadly. His teeth were bared before her and his breathing was ragged. Spock was shaking violently. He suddenly pulled her into a furious kiss, his teeth nipping at her lower lip. The familiar taste of iron corroded her tongue as Spock sucked on her flesh hard. Amelia's fists around his wrists tightened as she began to gather the strength to push him back, but like a wall, he would not budge. However, Amelia continued to hold her ground. She tried to pull away from his mouth, but Spock continued to press into her. Finally, in a growl of frustration, the Vulcan shoved her back with great force, nearly sending her over the opposite of the bed.

– _and her fist slammed down ferociously onto the sleek flooring where her reflection stared up meekly at her. A thousand cracks rippled outward like a pebble breaking the surface of a pond. A small crater cupped her bloody fist until she slowly began to separate her flesh from the floor. Amelia's eyes wandered over the throbbing bloodiness as she stood again, her other hand balled up at her side. Her injured hand opened, her red fingers spreading out like the legs of a spider. _

_The hand traveled up to the shawl wrapped firmly around her head that concealed her hair. She wiped her blood on the majestic material. She grabbed at the end piece that bound her around the neck. She gave it a tug and it threatened to take her head off. She began to unwind it from around her neck._

Spock climbed onto the bed on all fours, legs on either side of Amelia as she sat up on her elbows drunkenly, her eyes maintaining a stare on him. He sat down carelessly onto her lap and his fingers locked around the low neckline of her skant.

_The veil was loosening. Amelia released the end piece and latched onto the fabric on top of her head. She pulled it off fearlessly, the airy shawl fluttering after her bloody hair like a terribly long ribbon. She did not watch the shawl fall to a crumbled heap on the floor beside her. She slowly rotated her head again, counterclockwise, her hair loose and becoming accustomed to the freedom at hand. She ran her hands up the sides of the corset, turning her hands up around the outside of her chest region and brought her fingers up to the tall neckline on the top of the dress. Her fingers tightened around the fabric mercilessly. _

Spock tore the neckline into a V shape. Amelia lightly gasped as the sound overpowered the pounding of her heart from inside her chest and the haggard breathing from Spock. Her cleavage and black lace of her bra peeked out at him, and the black pools on Spock's face shifted to observe their findings. Both hands pulling the fabric open around either shoulder, Spock dipped his head down into the crook of her neck and he began sensually biting and kissing her flesh hard. His hands swept over her shoulders, tearing the fabric only a bit more before his hands took hold of the top of her rib cage under her arms; his hands cupped the outsides of her breasts, his thumbs nearly pushing into them.

With the sudden addition of his weight onto her, Amelia's elbows cried out painfully at her. She quickly grabbed onto his shoulders to hold herself up as she felt his teeth on her neck. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Fear and pain gripped her as he devoured her neck, down her jugular and towards her clavicle. Eyes widening as she tried desperately not to cry out, Amelia dug her nails into Spock's shoulders in an attempt to distract him from the pain he was causing her. At first, the Vulcan hardly noticed it; in fact, for a brief moment, Amelia was sure that Spock had found her retaliation almost pleasurable as his mouth on her skin let up ever so slightly as her nails did not relieve pressure. But that suddenly changed when Spock released her all together, slamming her back against the bed.

"You don't have a choice," he hissed, and he smacked her across the face.

Amelia took the blow without whimpering, but laid in shock as his hand swiftly left her face and joined the other in ripped her skant all the way down her front. Amelia's heart hurt tremendously as it pumped heatedly inside of her.

"Spock …" she started to say but the Vulcan gave no attention to what was coming out of her mouth. Instead, Spock bent forward over her and began to kiss her ferociously on the mouth again. As he did so, Amelia felt his hands latch around the sides of her panties. Amelia's eyes rolled back. All she could wish for was that her heart would explode and it would all be over …

_Just as Amelia was about to rip at the top of the dress, she heard the clapping of boot heels on the glossy floor in the darkness before her. Pausing, she looked up, straining to see into the darkness. The clapping grew louder. Suddenly, a figure broke through._

"_Hikaru?" she asked quietly._

_Hands in his trouser pockets and a small smile on his unshaven face, Leonard McCoy stepped into the light of the beam. _

"_Not exactly," he replied quietly._

_Amelia's bottom lip began to tremble as Leonard reached out and cupped the side of her face in his hand. He then leaned in and gave her a small yet significant kiss. His facial hair tickled her cheek as the warmth she'd longed for found its place within her. Leonard broke the kiss but remained close to her. His hands held her shoulders as he gave her a small kiss on the forehead, and then he moved his hands to the neckline of the dress where Amelia had wanted to start her attack. _

_As though using magic, Leonard simply pulled the fabric so that it stretched over her shoulders and fell down easily off of her slender body. She stood in the corset and her panties, the dressed crumpled at her feet. Suddenly, the corset began to crack like a piece of pottery. It fell over of her in pieces around their feet, but Amelia did not watch. Her stare was locked onto Leonard's as his soft gaze did not leave hers. _

"_There's always a choice," he said softly to her. "And however you dance, you have me."_

_Amelia looked down at herself and saw that she was in an aquamarine strapless leotard. There was a beautiful floral pattern that tapered across it, and a beautiful sheer skirt flowed out from the green belt that comfortably clung to her waist. The belt's color matched that of her ballet slippers and the straps that wound themselves up her calves. Though she could not see them, two peacock plume feathers decorated the sides of her head and her hair was pulled back into a messy bun. Strands of her bangs fell gracefully across her forehead as she watched Leonard slowly take a step away from her, his smile broader as he took the sight of her in._

"_Beautiful," was all he said before stepping out of the beam. However, Leonard was not engulfed into darkness as the area around the spotlight had brightened to a very dim setting; while Amelia could not actually see the details of Leonard's face anymore, she could make out his outline – and he was there. Without another moment to lose, Amelia felt an excitement that she had not felt in a while. Sliding her right foot out to the side, Amelia hopped up onto it and began to turn, lifting her left leg into a perfect attitude almost like that of a porcelain ballerina figurine one might find rotating on a jewelry box. However, this ballerina had no music or beat of any kind. Amelia began to dance. She began to feel the movements. She improvised and allowed her body to move exactly how it wanted to. She was nervous and scared and completely comforted by her single audience member, but she did not stop. She could not. _

_The movements of her hands and legs were slow and fluid. She reached outward and leapt; she pirouetted and landed in a wide fourth position, an arm extended out to the side and the other upward into the light. As her head tilted back, Amelia caught the beam as it flickered for a moment. _

Spock held one of Amelia's hands over her head, pressing it into the mattress. He felt her other hand against his chest as she began to resist him again. In a heated fury, he seized he hand and joined it to the other so that she was bound in a single grip while his other hand grabbed her around the side of her neck. His thumb nail traced her jaw line sharply. His mind was starting to call him away from this area of her body, to venture to the point at which all suffering would end. And while the blood that churned liquid fire throughout his veins coursed mercilessly in desperate need for sanity, Spock's fingers on her face began to press into her skin around her temple.

_Amelia maintained her position but dropped her head to see Leonard. She nearly gasped when she realized that Leonard was not alone. Though this new figure did not interact with Leonard and Leonard made no impression of acknowledging this other figure's existence, Amelia realized that she was beginning to feel differently. A wave of worry and fear came over her. She closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply. Gritting her teeth behind her lips, Amelia opened her eyes and stared past them both. Throwing her arms back behind her, Amelia gracefully trotted forward and threw herself into a perfect grand jete, leaping past the two audience members. The stage widened with every turn and leap she made. She moved faster and faster, the pace of her breathing becoming faster as she scooped low to the ground in plie. She extended her leg into fourth position again. Executing a releve fervently and standing onto pointe, Amelia whipped her leg around. She continued to do so in the same spot, her head snapping around faster than her body as she spotted. Fouette en tournant. Fouette en tournant. Fouette en tournant. _

Spock's eyes opened and in an enormous effort, he pushed himself off of Amelia, yelling out as he did so. Amelia opened her eyes to see the Vulcan fall back onto the floor, landing in a fetal position. He continued to cry out in pain while Amelia sat up and slid off of the bed to knees before him. Her body ached but she could not help but ignore its cries out to her; Spock appeared to be experiencing a pain far greater than she could imagine.

"I can't," he said in a strained matter through his teeth. "I can't."

Amelia touched his shoulder as she watched the scene in alarm. "Spock – you're going to die."

"I can't," he repeated. He began to shake under her hand.

The door of the room opened with a snap. Amelia glanced up just as Leonard and Scotty came rushing in. Leonard was completely frazzled; his hair was a mess and his tunic was completely disheveled. He came to halt as she saw Amelia crouched next to the Spock, both of them only in their undergarments.

"Leonard!" Amelia cried.

Leonard took her by the arm and stood her up firmly, bringing him to her briefly before glancing over her again. Bruising had begun to sweep down her neck and over her clavicle. "Are you okay?" he growled, but he did not wait for a response. As Amelia started to state that she was okay, Leonard nodded to Scotty, who took hold of Amelia's hand and pulled her away from Spock. Amelia watched in horror as Leonard then proceeded to grab Spock by the shoulders, turning him so that they could see each other closely.

"Len – _NO_!" Amelia screamed out but Scotty held her close so that she could not run at the two.

Leonard grabbed Spock at the neck and punched him square in the face. The Vulcan's head snapped back but returned quickly as though unfazed by the blow. Leonard hesitated only a moment, and in that moment, Spock sent his fist straight into Leonard's diaphragm. All of the air within Leonard and a cry exited his body through his mouth all at once, and the doctor fell on top of the Vulcan, who promptly pushed his stunned body off of him. Spock rose to his feet.

"My fight is not with you," he said as he watched the doctor climb painfully to his knees, an arm around his torso. Spock turned toward Amelia and Scotty. Scotty instantly pushed Amelia toward the door just as Jim and Skylar came running through the doorway. The three of them each caught Scotty as he rushed at the Vulcan. He tackled Spock, yelling out as he did so. Leonard sacrificed himself as he positioned himself behind Spock. In a swift movement, Spock and Scotty fell back over Leonard, who was now pinned under them.

Scotty threw a couple of punches at Spock but Spock violently pushed Scotty away, sending him halfway across the room.

"Guys, stop!" Jim commanded as he skirted to Scotty's aid. He looked back at Skylar and nodded. "We need to get out of here," he said to everyone as Skylar walked carefully to the pile of Spock and Leonard.

Skylar stepped over Leonard, who was now pulling himself out from under Spock. Amelia rushed to him and took his hand, assisting him while keeping an eye on Skylar who was now crouched over Spock. They stared at each other for a moment before Skylar leaned over the Vulcan and kissed him passionately.

"Come on," Amelia said to Leonard as Leonard looked back at what was going on. "We need to leave."

"I'm sorry," Leonard said painfully as he pulled himself into a standing position. "You didn't want my help but I couldn't just sit around –"

"Let's talk about this later," Amelia cut him off firmly. Wrapping an arm around him, Amelia walked Leonard over to Jim who had an arm around Scotty. The four of them did not look back as they slowly made their way out into the corridor.


	10. Space

**A/N: A very, very warm thank you to all who have read, edited, Tweeted, Facebooked and/or left me comments regarding this story. I sincerely appreciate your time and remarks.**

**X. ****Space****.**

Jim Kirk sat in his chair aboard the bridge idly staring out at the view screen. His chin rested on his fist as his peripheral vision caught the motions of Sulu and Chekov as they each swept their hands across their consoles to engage the break-away procedures from the Trill space dock. At the base of the screen, Jim could see the planet hovering in untainted existence. It was as though the Enterprise, Captain Kirk or the Federation had ever been there; and honestly, they hadn't actually. Jim especially. Though he had once believed the couple days prior that he would be taking place in a progressive turn of fate on his beloved career path, Jim was absolutely positive that nothing of the sort had taken place. If anyone had been right, he noted in self-defeat, it had been Senator Dorraine. Jim's existence was not one that could be tied down to playing dress up and pressing on about bullshit negotiations that meant nothing to him; it was likely that his connection with Trill would be cut once they left the planet's orbit. The negotiations between the Federation and the Trills would not affect him either way. There was no logic in him being the one to bridge their gap. Jim's place belonged where his heart was 100% of the time - with his ship and his crew. For a brief moment, a wave of failure hit him as a captain. In that light, it was obvious that he – Captain James T. Kirk – had been unable to perform the duties assigned to him. But this shower of that reality was a short one. While the negotiations had been a failure for him as a captain (one the Federation had already noted to him in plethora since his transmission to them after the ordeal with Spock), Jim could not feel bad about this career error. He never enlisted to shake hands with strangers and pretend to care about their concerns. He signed up to be the best damn captain in the galaxy ... And friend. So while those about the ship looked to their young captain and sympathized with him over what they concluded was to be sulking over Trill, Jim's rainy cloud consisted without any feelings in regards to Trill; his failure rested in the fact that he had left his friends to fend for themselves in such a significantly dangerous time to pursue his own selfish feats.

Jim's mind raced, though he did not want it to, back through the timeline of the past couple of days. He saw the faces of them all - Spock, Amelia, Leonard, Skylar, Scotty and Sulu, each suffering their own personal demons, be it about themselves or about one another. Through all of the mess, Jim had found himself where his mind had been centered on promotions and sex. Sex ... temptations that had gone too far. There was nothing that could erase the sins that he had committed in his life without fervent repentance, but Jim wondered how any of them could forgive him for the last two days. He had offered up a friend to other in front of her boyfriend and one of Jim's best friends; he had expected everyone else to accept it, and he had almost gone too far with another friend who had contracted something that Jim had not allowed himself to understand. He had placed himself on the edge of friendships all for the sake of adding some bullshit diplomacy onto his résumé. He nearly laughed out loud in bitterness at this notion.

This was not the Jim Kirk he had wanted to grow up to be. This was not who he was destined to be. It was never about being the poster boy of anything; it was about doing the right thing, especially by those whom he loved more than anything - his family. Jim was not allotted an abundance of luxuries as a Starfleet captain. In fact, the good times were hard to come by what with business and formalities and the constant reminder that everything could be lost in a second with a single incorrect command or judgment. Many would not find the job to be worth the scarce amount of rewards. But having the people he surrounded himself with at the end of the day, making memories and knowing that his life was more than secure in the hands of these individuals was worth the heavy weight of a nearly thankless job. A smile, an inside joke, and the trust in knowing that someone other than himself walking around aboard the _Enterprise_ had a glimpse into his heart and soul was an overwhelmingly reassuring thought about his choice in career. He never expected or intended that he should be the one to screw any of that up. And this killed Jim.

"Captain," Sulu's voice brought Jim back into reality. "We've initiated break-away procedures." The familiar life that was usually laced into Sulu's tone was missing.

"Excellent," said Jim as he stood from his chair. His eyes lingered in the direction of where Spock usually sat, but the Vulcan was absent. Jim walked up to his helmsman and navigator, placing a hand on either of their shoulders and gave them each a light squeeze. "I just wanted to say that you both are doing an excellent job," said Jim quietly to them. He caught Sulu's eye as Sulu looked up at the captain in slight surprise. "This job is hard, especially when my orders aren't always what one would do in a given situation. But I appreciate your patience."

"Of course, keptin," Chekov stated.

Sulu stared at Jim a little bit longer. "It isn't always easy, Captain," he said quietly. After a moment, he added, "For any of us."

Jim nodded.

"But we're still here," Sulu added. "We're all still here, Jim." Sulu felt Jim's fingers press into his shoulder again, this time a bit harder. Their stare did not break for a moment until Jim's mouth slightly curved and he nodded again.

"Yes, we are."

:::::

Skylar sat on the edge of the medical bed. She glanced up at the closed door she knew Amelia and Leonard were behind. He had already given Skylar one last physical and then had pulled Amelia into the room, albeit awkwardly. Everything seemed awkward, suddenly, Skylar felt. But it wasn't necessarily a negative type of awkward. It was more of an aware feeling; it was as though they had been stripped naked over the past couple of days and they had each seen everything on the outside but particularly what was within, venturing beyond the nakedness of the skin, past blood and muscle. It was like a window to the soul had opened up, and there was nothing left to hide anymore. Every perfection, every flaw, every intention and demon and weakness and strength had been bared, displayed to the world - but more importantly, to themselves. It was scary yet incredibly insightful and enlightening. It was also incredibly new for her. Skylar was not used to letting herself become so open to just anyone. Even though Spock was her lover, even she had become aware of the fact that Spock knew her inside and out, deeper inside that she could have ever imagined. It wasn't necessarily a hard thing to comprehend, but it wasn't easy. It also made her terribly insecure. Perhaps Spock could not accept everything he had seen. Maybe there were a few imperfections and demons he would not be able to handle in her. With everything out in the open now, things were bound to change. This change was going to affect them all. Skylar was very concerned about what kind of change this would prompt, for as much as she led on that she could handle and adapt to anything, this was something that Skylar did not know if she could deal with. Would there be any trust left between them all, especially between she and Spock? After all, she had almost had sex with Jim, Spock's best friend, their captain … She had nearly killed him for it. What would a human do in this situation? But more importantly, what were the bedroom laws of the Vulcan during such a madness as _pon farr_? She could have easily placed herself in Spock's boots and offered herself a fate that would have killed her. It would have been the right thing, to toss herself aside. She was tainted. But even though her body and mind had gone to the wrong place, wasn't their any redemption for the truth of her heart? Couldn't Spock mind meld with her heart and see where her feelings actually lay?

Skylar sighed heavily. All she could do was prepare for the worst. What was done was done, and a judgment was to be made against her crimes. Not even she could talk herself out of what had happened. The dirty laundry between them and their closest friend was all out on the line. This was it.

As Skylar looked down at her toes as her feet dangled over the edge of the bed, she heard rustling in the bed next to her. She turned her head to see Spock lying there, now looking at her back. Skylar turned and shifted herself back onto the bed so that she could face him fully.

They did not say anything for a moment but just watched each other.

:::::

Amelia let the door slide closed behind her and stopped just beyond it as Leonard sat on a stool writing notes furiously onto the screen of his medical PADD. Without looking up at her, he said gruffly, "Skylar's fine. Everything checked out okay."

Amelia replied softly, "I'm surprised you're not going to make Chapel run the physical."

"Yeah, well, I'm the primary physician, and she's got other problems to deal with." He tossed the PADD onto the counter, sighed heavily and ran both of his hands through his hair. He cringed slightly as a hand gingerly went to his abdomen.

"You okay?" Amelia questioned, taking a step toward him.

"Yeah, that pointy eared bastard really knows how to kick a man when he's down though," Leonard retorted grimly.

Amelia stopped and crossed her arms over her chest protectively. She watched him for a moment. "Why won't you look at me?" she asked in a pleading manner. "Leonard, this is so hard."

Leonard chuckled bitterly. At least that's what Amelia thought he was doing until he finally turned to look at her and she saw that his gruff face was tear-stained and his eyes were red.

"I don't want to see it - any of it, but it has to be me," he told her in defeat as he began to break down. As Leonard brought his hands up to his face, Amelia skirted to him and wrapped him in a tight embrace. Leonard allowed her to hold him for a moment as he wept into her chest. "Look at me, you're the one who has gone through all of this shit and I'm the blubbering idiot."

Amelia shushed him. "This choice was not just going to affect me, Leonard."

"Yeah, I got that."

"This entire thing - all of it, it's hurt so many of us."

"I'm sorry for being such a dick to you," Leonard said as he looked up to her. "Here you are in the dark by yourself and I was such an asshole about it. You're such a good person - you don't need any of this."

"I wasn't by myself," Amelia told him softly. "You were there."

"No I wasn't. I don't deserve you."

Amelia held him out at arm's length and stared at him hard. "Leonard McCoy, if you do not stop that, I will sock you in the same spot Spock did and not regret it," she threatened. "I know exactly where you were. I know. And I apologize for the emotional trauma that has happened, for all of us. This was not an attempt to break your heart."

Without a second thought, Leonard pulled her into a deep, wet kiss. He took her around the back and lifted her onto is lap, her legs around him. He ignored any pain that throbbed at him as he pressed her closer to him. Breaking the kiss gently, he brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I love you, Amelia, more than you could ever know," he whispered to her.

"I think I have an idea," she whispered back. Pausing for a moment, she stared at him seriously. "Len, regardless of what you see on my body, I want you to know that Spock chose to end it." Leonard said nothing and Amelia did not wait for him to offer a reply. "He couldn't. He told me himself. Please don't hate him."

Leonard looked down briefly to consider this, when the tiniest of smiles crossed his lips. His eyes wandering up to hers, he said, "When I entered the room, I thought you'd beaten the shit out of him for me."

Amelia smirked. "Yeah, that's what happened," she said in mock-seriousness.

"I am okay with that." Leonard paused. "I just hope he and Skylar are going to be okay," he remarked quietly. "Jim told me that Skylar had contracted the _pon farr_ from Spock, being that they have mind melded on a consistent basis in the past."

"That's possible?"

"Apparently so. To a degree, at least. I don't think she'll have a typical seven year period of it, or ever to the degree that Spock will experience it. But because of their relationship, they will always have a mental connection."

"She's his mate," she told him softly. "They aren't meant to be with anyone else, no matter if she's on-planet or he's a million light-years away. They were always intended to be together. We should have never tried to separate them."

Leonard nodded. "But now that Jim has been thrown into the mix... " He trailed off. "All I know is that Jim feels like a walking disaster and Spock and Skylar have said virtually nothing to anyone. I can understand why Spock would dismiss the situation all together, as a cultural thing, but Skylar ... She and Jim seem very affected."

Amelia considered this sadly. "Skylar loves Spock," she said finally, with a firmness in her tone. "And though he isn't one to say it outright, I know for a fact that Spock loves Skylar. Especially after last night. Spock wasn't just trying to save me. He chose death, Len. Who does that for anything but love?"

"I would die for you," Leonard told her just as firm. "But you've got to let me."

Amelia took his head in her hands and their foreheads came together. "Let's spend some more time together in this life before we start making commitments like that." She then pulled Leonard into a kiss.

:::::

Spock sat upright and moved to the edge of the bed. He did not break eye contact with Skylar as he did so. "There is a lot to consider now." His voice was deep and almost strained. "Things have ... changed."

"They have," Skylar replied sadly. She looked down at her lap.

"Skylar," Spock started, "How do you feel?"

Skylar eyed him. "Like complete shit, honestly."

"I know how you feel."

"I don't mean physically, Spock. I mean I feel dirty and like the scum of the earth." She scooted closer to the edge of the bed and stared at him with eyes brimming with tears. "I'm going to cry," she said suddenly and nervously laughed. Wiping away a rogue tear with her knuckle, she continued with a blatant effort to not sound so affected. "You can walk away, Spock. I don't know if I could live me after what has happened."

"As I have already stated, I am well aware of how you feel," Spock reminded her evenly, and stood. "Jim has given me an account of what happened, and while we were mating, I saw it all in your mind."

Skylar stared up at him, her mouth now agape. "That's not exactly how I wanted you to find out about your girlfriend's infidelities, but at least you know the truth." She hung her head as the tears began to slide down her face mercilessly. "I fucked up the best thing that ever happened to me."

"As did I," Spock said quietly, and he took a seat beside her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Skylar shook her head. "It is apart of your biology. I have no excuse."

"On the contrary, being with me on a physical and mental level has given you an extent of my ailment, which is why I would not question you any should you decide that this is the path you do not want to take. I can understand how any human would find such a violent and disorienting time utterly illogical."

Skylar looked at him in disbelief.

"If you are to stay with me, this will not be the last time any of this should happen. It is apart of me always, like a parasite."

"Or symbiosis," remarked Skylar distantly.

Spock looked at her quizzically. "How anyone would deem the plak tow as anything beneficial to my existence is in dire need of further inquiry."

Skylar turned under his arm and wrapped hers around his naked torso. "If you can accept me for how I am, as illogical and bitchy and absurd as I can be, who am I to cast you away from what makes you, you, Spock? Besides, this is now apart of me. We need each other." She paused, looking deep into his eyes. It was like seeing him as someone different, someone human. There was now life again within his dark eyes again, a life that was familiar in security and comfort … and love. "It can be just you and me," she told him softly. "It would be only you and me; no one else."

"What happened between Amelia and I, you and Jim - none of it should have transpired. You are my mate, I have given this to you. I should have set aside my responsibilities to Starfleet and explained this all to you, then none of this would have transpired. And if you are willing –"

Skylar interrupted, "As your mate, this is my duty to you. And I accept it."

Spock lowered his gaze just enough to indicate that this distressed him slightly. "I ... do not want to hurt you. Mentally or physically."

Skylar pressed her lips to his and they kissed. "I would do anything for you," she whispered to him. "Just as you would die for me."

Spock looked at her carefully.

"I saw it all, too," Skylar reminded him. "I know exactly how you feel."

Spock's finger tips went to the side of her face as though he wanted to mind meld with her, but he applied no pressure. Instead, he merely brushed her skin softly; he did not need to search her mind, for he already knew where her heart was. "I love you," was all he said before pulling her into a gentle kiss.

:::::

Over the next few days, the awkwardness between everyone involved in the Trill mishap began to wane. It began as a slow process. It was easy for Amelia to return to her bouncy self, and even she made Skylar laugh; Amelia had not allowed too much time to pass before she pulled Skylar aside and they had their own private heart-to-heart on the situation. Hardly any time passes between Bones and Spock bickering on the bridge with Jim readily in the middle to cool the tension, and just as Amelia was again gallivanting about the ship, Sulu seemed to come back to life as well. Jim found this most pleasing on the bridge, having those familiar smiles and childish barking between friends. Scotty was a tad harder to break from the issues. He seemed mad more so than anything, and his anger was heightened whenever he and Jim shared words. Jim felt bad about this because he knew that Scotty had been on the outside for a majority of the incident, and even though Bones had slipped back into routine (with the help of Amelia, of course), Scotty still seemed to be weary of Jim and Spock. Jim could not let this continue without some kind of resolution. To his fortune, he caught Scotty at the ship's bar one evening while most of the bridge crew was off duty. He had told Bones to meet him once his shift was done, which allowed him a little bit of time to catch Scotty on his last gulp of Scotch.

"Hey," Jim said evenly as he took a seat at the small table that Scotty sat at alone.

Gulping the Scotch down quickly, Scotty sat the glass down and gave Jim a curt nod. "Captain," he said and started to rise, but Jim caught his wrist gently.

"Please, can we talk for a minute?"

Scotty paused, his brows furrowed, and then slowly sat back down in the chair. "I suppose my manuals can wait, then," he remarked.

Jim cracked a small smile. "I know you're upset, Scotty," Jim started. "I just want to apologize for anything and everything I've done."

Scotty leaned in toward Jim, the Scotch still hot on his breath. "Look Jim, I don't know what to think. Everything went to shit faster than warp 10. One minute we're aiding Trill, the next we're trying to knock Mr. Spock off of Amelia. I don't understand any of it."

"It's a mating drive that is a part of Spock," Jim explained.

Scotty shook his head impatiently. "Gah, Captain, I get that. It's just …"

"Awkward," Jim finished for him.

Scotty shrugged. "I guess so. I just know that if I'd have been Leonard, I'd have killed the son of a bitch."

"If we always tap into our human emotions, Scotty, a lot of people and aliens alike would be dead."

Scotty looked at his glass as he began tapping its side aimlessly. "Look, I know I should just get over this. Everyone is fine. Everything worked out. Sort of. We failed our mission."

"I failed our mission, Scotty."

Scotty eyed him. "That's where you're wrong, Jim. You came back. That was the right mission, and the right thing to do."

Jim glanced away. "I just wish things would have gone differently. This is going to take a long time to really put behind any of us."

"Aye," replied Scotty with a nod as he considered this. "It is. It will with me. I won't forget what I saw running into that room alongside Bones, or having Spock knock me clear across a room."

Jim couldn't help but chuckle. "You two hauled ass."

Scotty smirked up at him. "Regardless, if Spock would have let me, he could have the pleasure of witnessing the fury of an angered Scotsman. We are particularly angered when we are utterly confused by the unexplained, odd actions of our peers."

Jim smacked him respectfully on the back. "I think the red shirt helps. I know who'll lead me front line, Scotty."

"Oh, sir, I'll be there, right behind Skylar." He nodded in the direction behind Jim, who turned to see Bones and Skylar walk in. Leonard continued on it towards them while Skylar began to stop, her eyes on Jim.

Jim turned back to Scotty but before he could say anything, Scotty cracked a sympathetic smile. "Go on, now, Jim. I'll be okay. With time, I will. She needs this conversation more than I do."

Leonard approached the table. "Skylar and I," he started to say, turning and realizing that Skylar was not next to him anymore. "Sky?"

"Come on, Bones," said Scotty as he patted the table top and he began to gesture over the bartender. "Want a round?"

Leonard looked at Jim as he began to stand from the chair and then turned back to see Skylar standing by the bar. "Yeah," he said, returning his look back to Scotty. "A good few ought to be the right dosage." He gave Jim a pat. "Good luck, man," he said quietly, and took Jim's seat.

Jim approached Skylar slowly. "Take a walk with me?" he offered, gesturing towards the doors. Skylar nodded and followed Jim out of the bar.

The corridor was mostly vacant except for a few crewmen in a hurry to return to their quarters. Jim and Skylar paid no attention to them as they occasionally glanced up from the ground. A row of windows lined the outer wall as they turned a corner, the bright stars lighting up the corridor as they extended out far beyond what either of them could fathom. It was here that Jim stopped as he turned to a window and stared out at the endlessness of space. Skylar hung back ever so slightly, her arms crossed over her chest.

"I stood on a balcony with Senator Dorraine looking out at a scene like this," he said toward the force field. "It's really beautiful."

"It is," Skylar replied. "It doesn't matter what explodes out here, what wars we make or weapons we fire – space just continues in the same natural beauty it's always had."

Jim looked at her. "I'm so sorry, Skylar," he said honestly.

"I tried to rape you, and you're the sorry one," she reminded him.

Jim turned to her and took her by the shoulders. "Out of everyone I failed, I failed you the most."

Skylar stared up at him. Finally, she sighed and walked away from him toward the window. "Jim, I know you. I know how you were and I know how you are. I can't honestly say that I would have thrown you off if our roles had been reversed."

"That's not any excuse."

"That's reality," she said. "Cold reality." She turned back toward him. "It's no surprise I singled you out as my resolution. I could smell your desire, and I needed that fulfillment. The fact that we have a past cemented what I was going to do."

Jim took a step toward her. "Does Spock know about our past?"

Skylar nodded. "I told him. I told him everything, even the things he would have never thought to or wanted to find out through mind meld. Regardless, you and I happened at a time before he and I were ever official. But what happened in the present correlates with the reason as why the past is so important in this." Skylar reached out and touched the side of Jim's face tenderly. "We were never meant to be, Jim. Not even something as powerful as _pon farr_ could bring us together. _You_ saved us both from making a connection that would have ultimately destroyed our futures."

Jim closed his eyes for a moment until Skylar retracted her hand slowly.

"I love Spock. With all of my heart, I love him. And with all of my heart, I know that you and I would not be happy."

Jim nodded. "I know. You and I are too much alike."

"Reckless, selfish, and easily bored."

Jim smiled. "Don't tell any of the potentials."

Skylar shook her head. "Some things never change."

"You wouldn't have it any other way," he said. Jim then pulled Skylar into a hug. "You know, I _will_ always love you, Skylar. But you're right. We won't ever be in love."

Skylar looked up at him. "She's out there, Jim. The girl who's ready to be in love with you. And I'll always be here to warn her of your intentions." She released him and began to head back down the corridor. "As much as space scares me," she said over her shoulder, "it really is a beautiful thing."

As he watched her go, Jim smiled. Tuning back to the window, Jim watched as all of his worries began to slip through the force field, floating out into space where no matter how large they manifested or not, they would not affect the beauty beyond the window.

**The end.**


End file.
